Be Silently Drawn
by sparksmoon99
Summary: Remus picks a flower for Hermione, a simple act that sparks a powerful magic and forces the pair to face their feelings for each other. Will student and professor resist their love due to propriety and personal fears, or will they let themselves be silently drawn? Slow burn. Some time travel involved. Marauders' era/post-DH.
1. Chapter 1 (Part One)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Author's Note:** For the purposes of this story: Lupin, Tonks, and Fred did not die in the Battle of Hogwarts; nothing romantic ever happened between Lupin and Tonks; and Hermione and Ron dated briefly in their sixth year before deciding they were better off as friends.

* * *

 _Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love._

 _It will not lead you astray._

 _—Rumi  
_

* * *

 **Be Silently Drawn  
** Part One

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer."

A startled Hermione Granger turned left to find George Weasley grinning at her.

"That's what the Muggles say when someone's staring," he told her matter-of-factly. He nodded in the direction Hermione had been gazing. "Don't tell me you still fancy Ron?"

"I wasn't staring at him, and no. Definitely not."

Hermione grabbed a bottle of butterbeer while George looked over at who was standing with his brother. His eyebrows rose.

"So it was dear Remus you were admiring?"

"I wasn't _admiring_ anyone."

"Why are you blushing, then?"

"I'm not!" she argued, but felt her face warm up as she did so.

"That's convincing," said George sarcastically.

"I wasn't staring at anybody. I was thinking about some things, and I must have been unconsciously looking that direct— oh!"

Hermione had looked over at Remus Lupin just as his roving gaze had flickered her way. She hastily turned away from him, nearly sloshing butterbeer all over herself. He was too far, Lupin couldn't possibly hear what she and George were talking about, could he?

"If I didn't know you any better," George said, surveying Hermione's flushed face with a playful gleam in his eyes, "I'd say you were hot for teacher."

"I am _not_ —"

"He's a bit old for you, but if you fancy him—"

"I don't!"

"He's a good man, really. I totally approve if you want to start dating him, or, you know, just stay secret lovers—"

"George, that's ridiculous!"

"Is it?"

He was obviously amused by this conversation, but Hermione felt flustered. She struggled to deny the accusations, spluttering, "I do not fancy— we are not—"

"Hermione," George interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Relax. I'm only joking. It's a thing I'm known to do every so often."

Of course he was only joking.

"Right," she said, embarrassed at having gotten so worked up.

George let her go and grabbed a butterbeer. Hermione took a long swig of her own.

"Sorry. I guess I'm a little tense," she apologized.

"That's why I came over here. You looked too serious."

"I was thinking."

"Care to share?"

"Not really. It wasn't anything particularly interesting."

"Fair enough. Anyway, you should do less thinking and more lightening up. Look around."

George and Hermione took in the scene at the Burrow.

"I've never seen Mum so cheery," said the Weasley twin. "And Luna's… Well, I suppose that's what she calls dancing. And Hagrid is singing merrily—"

"You mean drunkenly," Hermione laughed. "I think some people have had too much firewhiskey."

"Maybe so, but the point is everyone's enjoying themselves. And it's not just the firewhiskey that's got everybody in a good mood. This is Harry Potter's eighteenth birthday party. The Boy Who Lived _still_ lives! Tonight's a celebration. Voldy's dead, the war is over, and we're all still kicking!"

George was right. They were all here, and they were all together. Hermione decided to put aside her previous preoccupations and enjoy the present moment. Tonight was a celebration after all.

Later on that night, after she'd succeeded in relaxing so that she could fully enjoy the presence of her friends, she stood with Harry and Ginny in the sitting room of the Weasleys' home, listening as they recounted to her the latest prank Fred Weasley had pulled.

"…Mum was so distracted she actually took the chocolate from him and ate it!" Ginny was telling her, her eyes bright with impish glee. "So every time she tried to speak after that she would burst out singing opera."

"She was furious," Harry said with a grin. "She tried yelling at Fred but ended up warbling at him instead."

While Hermione was laughing along with her friends, Lupin came over to bid farewell to the birthday boy.

"You're leaving already?" Hermione asked, her worries from before suddenly returning.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," Lupin replied pleasantly, his green-gray eyes kind as always as he looked into her brown ones. "It's a bit late for me."

"I'm glad you came, Remus," Harry said. "I'll see you soon?"

Lupin nodded, and then he was on his way. Feeling uneasy, Hermione watched the man with the graying light brown hair disappear into the kitchen.

"It is late," Ginny agreed. "I'm surprised Mum and Dad are still up."

"Actually, I think they've gone to bed," Harry said, noting their absence from the room.

"You're right. They must have— Hermione, where are you going?"

"I — um — need to…"

Hermione didn't have time to make up an excuse. She left her friends guessing as to what she needed to do and dashed toward the kitchen, through the back door, and out to the garden just as Lupin reached the gate.

"Remus, wait!"

He turned around, looking surprised to see her hurrying towards him.

"What is it, Hermione?"

She joined him by the gate where the light pouring through the open kitchen door illuminated their figures.

"Hagrid told us earlier that Professor McGonagall offered you the Defense Against the Dark Arts post," she said. "I was wondering if you were going to accept."

"Oh. Well, honestly, I haven't decided yet."

"I think you should," Hermione told him. "You really are a great teacher, and Hogwarts is in desperate need of those after all that happened last year."

"Hogwarts is in good hands. McGonagall will find the right people to get the school back on track."

"She wants _you_ to be one of those people." Hermione could see the hesitation in his eyes and thought she knew what was holding him back. "You shouldn't say no because you're a werewolf. That doesn't matter now. Things have changed."

"But I have not," Lupin replied wryly. "I am still the same werewolf who put you and your friends in danger in your third year."

"Only because you hadn't taken your potion, and that was due to extenuating circumstances. That wouldn't happen again, not as long as you're careful."

Lupin looked away from her, shaking his head slightly, and examined the rose bushes growing next to the gate.

"I know Harry and Ron will be starting their Auror training soon," he said, carefully reaching out his hand to touch a particularly gorgeous red rose, "so they won't be going back. I assume, however, you'll be returning to finish your seventh year?"

Hermione confirmed this, and unable to hide her pride or excitement, she added, "And McGonagall's made me Head Girl!"

"Congratulations, Hermione!"

Lupin picked the rose he'd been admiring.

"Here," he said, offering it to her. "For you."

Hermione blushed as she took the flower.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Lupin told her. "Well deserved."

"Thank you," she said, tucking her barely tamed brown hair behind her ear. She breathed in the rose's lovely scent. It made her feel strangely lightheaded.

Remus frowned slightly as he glanced between her and the rose.

"Well, I should be going now," he said, stepping away from her. "Goodnight, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip as she watched Lupin pass through the gate. The thought of him leaving tonight unsettled her for some reason, but there was nothing she could think to say to make him stay. He'd closed the gate behind him and gone a few paces before she called out to him again.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts?" she asked uncertainly.

"Perhaps," Lupin answered with a faint smile. Then he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

* * *

Hermione was slowly being pulled away from sleep, but she didn't want to wake yet. Waking meant getting out of bed, and she was perfectly content where she was. Normally an early riser, eager to start the day, this morning she was simply too warm and comfortable to be in any hurry to get up.

Lost in the dreamy state between being asleep and fully awake, it took Hermione several minutes to realize she wasn't alone in her bed…

She wasn't aware at first of the light, even breathing on the back of her neck, nor was she conscious of the warm physical presence lying closely next to her, the legs entangled with her own, the arm wrapped around her waist. Only when her bedfellow began to stir, only when she felt the shiver-inducing sensation of his hand sliding across her stomach, did Hermione's eyes fly open.

Her bedfellow went still, his hand halting near her hip. Then, as though he'd been administered an electric shock, he abruptly pulled away. Heart beating fast, Hermione twisted around to see who was lying with her.

Staring back at her was an alarmed Remus Lupin.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in a review!


	2. Chapter 2

Two voices cried out in shock. Two bodies scrambled away from each other: Hermione backing up against the headboard, tugging the blanket up to her chin; Lupin falling over the edge of the bed, pulling bed curtains and Hermione's blanket down with him as he crashed to the floor.

Hermione shrieked as she was uncovered. She felt remarkably exposed in her summer sleepwear—a lilac-colored tank top and girl boxer shorts. She jumped out of bed to retrieve her robe, but it wasn't there. Hermione looked all around her. She wasn't in Ginny's room or anywhere else at the Burrow. Instead, she was in a circulatory dormitory containing five four-poster beds with crimson curtains.

How in Merlin's beard did she get to Hogwarts?

Hermione's gaze traveled across the bed she'd vacated moments before. On the opposite side stood Lupin in his gray pajama pants and white t-shirt. He stared back at her with an expression of mingled shock, confusion, and wariness.

"Who are you? W-what are you doing in the boys' dormitory?" he questioned her.

Hermione didn't answer. As she looked at him now, she perceived something wasn't quite right about her ex-professor. This wasn't really Lupin...

Fear gripped her. She began to back away from the imposter, away from his bed, but her foot caught on something on the floor, and she fell down. The imposter took a step toward her but quickly retreated when Hermione recoiled from him.

"Who are _you_? Why am I here?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

With apprehension etched on his features, the imposter glanced around the room currently unoccupied by anyone besides themselves. Then his searching eyes fell upon her again.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what's going on either."

He began to move toward the trunk at the end of his bed, and Hermione thought he was going for his wand. Defenseless without hers, she was ready to take cover behind the nearest bed. The imposter, however, didn't go for his wand. He picked up his cloak. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped toward her, holding it out in front of him.

"Here, take this," he offered.

Hermione realized she was shaking, whether from cold or fear she didn't know. She stood up and looked timidly into the imposter's face as she took his cloak. His sage green eyes regarded her in concern. Those eyes… She knew those eyes.

He wasn't an imposter. Though he wasn't Lupin as she had come to know him, she was certain the person before her _was_ Remus Lupin. The lines on his face were absent, and he didn't have the characteristic gray in his presently tousled, sandy brown hair, but he was definitely Lupin. He just looked…different.

Hermione wrapped his cloak around herself tightly.

"You look very pale," he said, examining her face with worry.

She didn't reply. She didn't understand what was happening. If this person was Lupin, if she was in his dormitory at Hogwarts, then had she…? But how?

"I think we should go to the Hospital Wing," he suggested.

Hermione shook her head. This couldn't be happening, could it?

Lupin stared at her in concern, and she didn't know what to say to him. She couldn't comprehend what was going on. She didn't know what to do.

So she ran.

Hermione bolted toward the door, swung it open, and left the bewildered Lupin behind. Hoping he wouldn't follow her, she hurried down the staircase and across the Gryffindor common room, nearly bumping into a girl in her haste.

"Oi! Watch it!"

Hermione didn't apologize or look back. She jumped out the portrait hole and started down the corridor, weaving through students as she went. She didn't care that they were giving her funny looks. She kept running along, hardly knowing where she was going, her thoughts racing as her feet pounded the floor.

Why had she woken up in bed with Lupin at Hogwarts? And why did Lupin look so… _young?_ Why did it appear that he was a student and not the teacher she knew him to be? This had to be a dream, please let it be a dream. Hermione pinched herself. It hurt. Well, if this wasn't a dream, how and why was this happening? What was she supposed to do? Panic was overcoming her.

Then, when she nearly crashed into a tall, old man with long silver hair and beard, she stopped in her tracks. She suspected her subconscious had been leading her to his office all the while, taking her to the person who always knew the answers. Some part of her had known that she would find him — alive — even though he was supposed to be dead. Here he was, blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose. He was alive back then, and so he was alive right now, and Hermione's head was spinning.

"Hello, there," the wizard greeted her cheerfully. "Were you, perhaps, looking for me?"

Hermione somehow managed to nod. She couldn't believe Albus Dumbledore was standing before her. He was seemingly revived, back from the dead, or more accurately, never dead at all. This was unreal. This was too much. Her knees went weak, and everything went black.

* * *

Hermione wished with all her might that when she opened her eyes everything would be normal again. She would be in Ginny's room, and Lupin and Dumbledore would've just been a dream.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her heart sank. She was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore were at her bedside.

"How are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"

"No," Hermione answered as she sat up. "My head hurts a little, but I'm fine."

"Drink this. It will help."

The Healer handed her a small vial of potion. After seeing to it that her patient consumed the tonic, Madam Pomfrey exchanged a glance with the Headmaster and returned to her office.

Hermione stared at the living, breathing Dumbledore.

"You gave us quite the scare when you fainted, Miss—?"

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Are you in some sort of danger, Miss Granger?"

"I'm not sure, Professor. I — I don't understand. Something strange has happened. I think… I think I may have time traveled."

Dumbledore's expression hardly changed.

"What makes you think you have time traveled?" he asked her calmly.

"Well, I woke up here at Hogwarts, and I saw—"

Hermione was unsure whether she should say who given the delicacy of her probable time travel situation and the possible repercussions from it. She decided on the spot to err on the side of caution and speak vaguely.

"I saw a friend. But he looked much younger than I know him to be, like he's a student. And you're— you look younger too, sir."

"What year are you from?" Dumbledore asked, apparently unfazed by the idea of her time travel.

"I'm from 1998."

"Do you know what year it is now?"

"It must be around…" Hermione did some quick mental calculations, and her eyes went wide. "1978?"

"Close. It is 1977," Dumbledore informed her.

He studied her closely with his piercing gaze, as if contemplating the authenticity of her supposed time travel dilemma.

"You do believe me, don't you, Professor?"

Dumbledore took his time before answering her.

"I cannot ask you to tell me about the future in order to prove that you have been there," he said, "because how could I know if what you told me were true? And more importantly, I _would_ not ask you. To tell someone from the past anything about what lies ahead could have dangerous consequences."

"I understand, Professor."

Hermione wondered anxiously what she would do if Dumbledore didn't believe her, but this particular worry was alleviated by his next words.

"I suppose I will have to simply take your word for it, Miss Granger. I have no reason to distrust you."

He smiled and Hermione began to relax.

"You said you do not know how you got here, so I take it you were not in possession of a time turner?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, Professor."

"Were you, perhaps, in possession of an unfamiliar object or performing an untried spell?"

"No, sir."

"Did anything strange or suspicious happen before you arrived here?"

Hermione rubbed her temple. She tried hard to think of something that occurred last night that could possibly explain her time travel, but the problem was she was having trouble remembering everything. Maybe she'd had too much butterbeer. No, she hadn't had that much to drink.

"I don't think so, but my memory is a bit fuzzy, Professor. I don't remember what happened before I woke up here. I don't remember going to sleep last night."

"Can you tell me about what you do remember? What you were doing? Who you were with?"

"I was at my friend's house. We were celebrating another friend's birthday. There weren't too many people there, only family and a few close friends. One of my friends was leaving, and I went after him. I wanted to ask him about a job he'd been offered. He said he wasn't sure yet whether he was going to take it…"

Hermione tried to remember what was said and done next, but her memory was hazy after that point.

"I don't know what happened after that. The next thing I knew I was waking up at Hogwarts."

"Where exactly did you wake, Miss Granger?"

"Er—" she couldn't bring herself to tell him _exactly_ where, so she said, "In Gryffindor tower."

"Where you saw someone you know from the future?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was this person, by chance, one of the people you were with last night in your time?"

"Yes. He was the person I was speaking with right before I time traveled."

"When you saw his younger self, did he recognize you?"

"No, sir."

"Is it possible that he may have cursed you, either intentionally or accidentally, while you spoke with him before in your time?"

"No," Hermione said, taken aback. "I trust him completely. He wouldn't have cursed me."

"Could someone else have had the opportunity to curse you? Someone less trustworthy?"

Hermione immediately considered the possibility of an escaped or still uncaptured Death Eater out for revenge.

"I suppose so," she told Dumbledore. "Not at the party, but when I was talking with my friend. We were outside by the gate."

"Do you know someone who would want to do that, an enemy who would want to send you back in time?"

Hermione instinctively knew she shouldn't mention Voldemort or the Death Eaters, so she answered cautiously.

"There are some people in my time who might have wanted to curse me, but I have no idea why they would send me back here."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Do you think you can help me, Professor?" Hermione asked after a short silence.

Again, Dumbledore took a moment before responding.

"I am not sure an ordinary Time-Turner would work in this situation. However, I am confident we will find a way to get you back to the proper time, Miss Granger. I do not know how long it will take, but we will figure this out. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione was truly grateful. She had no clue where she would go if she couldn't stay at Hogwarts. She couldn't go with her parents. They wouldn't know her in this time—she wasn't even born yet! Anywhere else seemed unsafe.

"While you are here, you must promise not to tell anyone you have time traveled," Dumbledore warned her. "You must not tell anyone anything about the future. That is imperative. Time is a powerful and curious thing. Changing the past, even an incident that seems of little importance, could have vast and unpredictable consequences in the future."

Hermione nodded. "I understand, sir. I should probably avoid some people then, the students I know from the future."

"Are any of these students your parents?"

"No. My mum and dad are Muggles."

"Then perhaps it won't be necessary for you to avoid anyone," Dumbledore said, looking thoughtful again. "We may be able to come up with a way for you to be here a short while without necessarily affecting the future."

Hermione didn't know how this was possible, but she trusted her wise headmaster.

"Now, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, getting to his feet, "you must be famished after all that time travel. Madam Pomfrey will bring you lunch shortly. I need to speak with a colleague of mine, but I will be back later to further discuss our plan to get you back to where you need to be."

"Thank you so much for your help, Professor."

Hermione counted her blessings that she'd woken up at Hogwarts at a time in which Dumbledore was here to help her.

"There is always help at Hogwarts for those who ask for it," Dumbledore said, and Hermione felt certain this situation would be resolved.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey advised Hermione to get some rest, but Hermione couldn't turn off her mind. How could she given this mysterious situation she suddenly found herself in?

How had this happened? Had she been cursed? Was this real? Could this be some kind of prolonged dream or delusion she was having? Had she gone mad?

Hermione thought of many explanations for her situation and many possibilities about what was to come, but she had no answers. All she could do was wait for Dumbledore and trust whatever plan he devised would be successful in mending her predicament. She knew she was in good hands. She was positive Dumbledore would be able to fix this, but she couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness at how this had all occurred in the first place.

Hermione couldn't fathom it. It was too strange that out of all the times and places she could have traveled to, she'd woken up in the bed — in the arms — of the teenage version of her former professor. Was this merely a coincidence or was this something else?

If she was going to be staying here at Hogwarts, she would most certainly see Lupin again. She could already imagine how awkward their next meeting would be. She had no idea what she would say to him, how she would explain what had happened.

Hermione thought of all the other familiar people she was likely to see: Professor McGonagall, Sirius Black, James Potter, Lily Evans, Severus Snape… Some of these people she had never met, and a lot of these people were dead in her time. Would she be able to handle this? It was bizarre enough seeing Dumbledore alive; she had actually fainted because of it.

Nevertheless, after the initial shock had worn off, it had been comforting being in Dumbledore's presence again. Hermione knew she was experiencing something most people never could. Most people could only wish for the chance to spend more time with a lost loved one. She had the privilege of _actually_ spending more time with Dumbledore.

She might get the chance to spend more time with Sirius too. She might even have the opportunity to meet Lily and James and the fortune to get to know the younger Remus Lupin as well.

Hermione couldn't believe how young he looked. She had always thought Lupin was a nice-looking man, but he was quite handsome in his youth.

Maybe being stuck here for a while wouldn't be so bad...

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for all the follows and favs, and a special thank you to each of you reviewers! This is my first fanfic so feedback is very much appreciated.

This story will be divided into two parts. Part one will be shorter and takes place in the Marauders' era. I know the time travel thing has been done many times, but what happens in the past will be important for what I have planned for part two, and I thought it would be fun to write a story where Hermione interacts with both the younger and older Remus.


	3. Chapter 3

After spending most of the afternoon in the Hospital Wing and speaking at length with Dumbledore about her circumstances, Hermione successfully convinced him she was ready to leave and begin her act as a transfer student. She didn't want to sit around and be idle any longer. She wanted to go to class the next morning and start on some schoolwork.

As always, she viewed school as a welcome distraction from the personal problems she was facing. School was her comfort zone, the place where she could easily find the answers to challenging questions. Life outside of class was more difficult to deal with—especially when one was inexplicably catapulted twenty years back in time—and Hermione was eager for the semblance of normalcy she knew homework would provide her.

It was early evening when Dumbledore introduced her to Professor McGonagall who then took charge of settling her in at Hogwarts. Hermione was delighted to see the younger version of her Transfiguration teacher. Her dark hair was in its usual tight bun, but her normally stern expression was softened as she greeted her new student.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Wilkins," McGonagall said, giving her a rare smile.

Hermione had to remind herself that _she_ was Miss Wilkins now. Dumbledore had thought it prudent not to use her real name, and so she would be going by Jean Wilkins for the duration of her time here in the past. Adopting this alias was only one of the precautious measures they were taking in an attempt to protect the future she knew from being altered due to her time travel.

"Thank you," said Hermione as Jean. "It's great to be here, Professor."

"You'll be staying in the Head Girl's dormitory with Lily Evans. I'll show you the way."

Hermione couldn't believe it. She was going to be staying with Lily, Harry's mother!

She followed her professor to a large, magnificent painting of the silhouette of Hogwarts during a fiery sunset. McGonagall tapped her wand against the darkness of the painted castle and a door appeared before them. They went through. On the other side was a spacious sitting room.

Lounging on an armchair was a beautiful red-haired, green-eyed girl who jumped to her feet upon their entrance. She approached Hermione with a friendly smile and extended her hand.

"Hello, Jean! Welcome to Hogwarts. I'm Lily Evans."

This was stranger than seeing Dumbledore alive. Hermione had never known the living Lily. She had always been just a name and a symbol of love and courage. Seeing her now in the flesh, shaking her hand, was peculiar. She felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, roommates with Lily, when her best friend Harry had never had the chance to know her, his own mother.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hermione said, more honestly than she had ever uttered those words before.

"Miss Evans will show you around the place and take you down to the Great Hall for dinner," McGonagall told her. "I will see you tomorrow morning to go over your class schedule."

"Yes, Professor."

McGonagall bid them a good evening and went on her way.

"Jean, let me show you our room. They've added a bed and dresser for you, and all your things have arrived," Lily informed her enthusiastically.

The bedroom was larger than Hermione expected. It was comfortable enough for two people and would be quite roomy for one person alone. Hermione's new things — wand, clothes, school uniform, school supplies — were on the far side of the room.

"Through that door there we have a nice big bath. It's fantastic. You'll love it."

Hermione was impressed.

"I'm sorry if this is an inconvenience," she said to the redhead. "Sharing a room when you've had it all to yourself."

"Oh, not at all. Actually, I'm quite happy to have a roommate. It's nice to have your own dorm, but it can get lonely sometimes. Are your ready for dinner? The food here is absolutely delicious."

"Yes, I'm starving."

Together they headed down to the Great Hall, and Hermione grew more nervous the closer they got. She was surely about to see Lupin again. She'd have to explain to him her odd appearance that morning, but she still hadn't come up with a plausible explanation.

In the Great Hall, the two girls made their way to the Gryffindor table. They stopped about halfway along, and Lily introduced Hermione to a couple of her new classmates. One of the girls had black hair and honey brown eyes, and the other was smiley with golden hair.

"Girls," Lily said, "this is the new transfer student, Jean Wilkins. Jean, these are my friends Marcia Amaro" —she indicated the girl with black hair first, "—and Kirsten Styles."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said to the pair of them.

"Come, sit. We don't bite," Kirsten said, and Hermione obliged.

She looked up and down the table as she sat down. She didn't see Lupin anywhere, but she noticed Lily was glancing around too. Marcia seemed to catch this as well.

"James and the others left dinner early," the raven-haired girl informed her friend.

Lily's gaze landed on Marcia. "I didn't ask about James."

"But you were wondering where he was," Marcia said, giving her a knowing look. "Isn't it funny how he's avoiding you? I think he's scared that after all this time you might actually say yes. _Are_ you going to say yes?"

"I haven't given it much thought."

"Oh, don't be coy. You are, aren't you?"

Lily didn't answer.

"James is Head Boy. He's fancied Lily for years now," Kirsten said, filling in the lost Hermione. "He's asked her out about a hundred times, but Lily's always rejected him before because he was too full of himself."

"And last Friday, he asked her again to be his girlfriend," Marcia continued. "This time, Lily said she'd think about it and told him to ask her again on Monday. James nearly had heart failure from the shock. So did the rest of us."

"Well, James has changed. He's more mature now. I thought maybe…" Lily trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

"You'd finally give in?" Kirsten supplied.

Lily gave her friends a small smile but no definitive answer. Instead, she turned to Hermione.

"Tell us about yourself, Jean. Where are you from?"

"From London, but I've done most of my schooling in France and in the United States. My family moves around a lot because of my dad's job," Hermione said, telling them the story she'd agreed upon with Dumbledore. It was important for others to think she often changed schools so that it would come as no surprise later when she left Hogwarts to return to her proper time.

"What does your dad do?" Kirsten asked.

"He works for the Ministry of Magic, International Relations Department. They needed him in England urgently, and my parents didn't like the idea of me being at a school so far away from them, so that's why I transferred here."

"Is it because of this whole You-Know-Who business going on that your dad had to come back to England?" Marcia asked.

"I'm not sure. He's not allowed to talk about some things," Hermione replied vaguely. The other three girls exchanged intrigued glances.

"Well, it must've been for something important like that if your family had to pick up and leave like you did," Marcia said. "And it must be hard for you, transferring when term's already started."

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed. She hadn't really thought about how she was going to be starting school late.

"You've only missed a few weeks of lessons. I'm sure you'll be fine," Kirsten reassured her.

"Yeah, I hope so," Hermione said, suddenly panicking about her classes. She knew her grades didn't matter in this time, but she still wanted to do well.

The four girls chatted throughout dinner, the others filling Hermione in on the teachers at Hogwarts and some gossip about her new classmates. Hermione, however, was preoccupied with the terrifying prospect of starting classes over a month late. She was in seventh year, N.E.W.T.s year, the most difficult and crucial year of her wizarding education, and she was weeks behind! Why had she told Dumbledore that she was taking all those classes in her time? It was true enough, she did plan on taking those classes, but she hadn't actually started them yet. Now she had to play catch up.

Before she went to sleep that night, Hermione decided she would speak with Professor McGonagall the following day about her worries.

* * *

The next morning, after they'd finished getting ready, Hermione and Lily left their dorm together. Waiting for them out in the corridor was— _Harry?_

No, not Harry. Though this bespectacled person had roughly the same height and build as her best friend, similar facial features, and the same untidy black hair, his eyes were hazel. This had to be—

"James?" Lily said, evidently surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, of course. It's Monday." James grinned at her, then turned to Hermione. "Hi, there. I don't believe we've ever met. I'm James Potter, Lily's boyfriend."

Lily made an exasperated noise but appeared amused all the same when she told him, "You are _not_ my boyfriend."

"Not yet. Not officially until you say yes."

"And what makes you think I'll say yes?" Lily asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"If my memory is correct, this is the thirteenth time I've asked you out, and everyone knows thirteenth time is the charm."

"Third time's the charm, not thirteen. Thirteen is supposed to be unlucky."

"Not for me. So what do you say?"

Though he was playing it cool and acting confident, Hermione thought she could see a touch of insecurity in James's eyes. She knew how much he must be longing for Lily to say yes, and suspected he also feared being rejected again.

"I say that Jean here is new to Hogwarts, and I need to show her to McGonagall's office."

"That's alright, Lily," Hermione said. "I know where it is. You go on and talk with James."

"Jean—" Lily started, but Hermione cut her off.

"Don't worry about me. I'll see you later."

James gave Hermione a conspiring wink before she left them alone and went off down the corridor. She smiled to herself as she made her way down to McGonagall's office. Was this the moment that Harry's parents became a couple? She hoped so.

Outside her professor's door, Hermione's smile faded and the worries she'd had the night before returned to her. She knocked on the door.

"Come in," came the Transfiguration teacher's voice.

"Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Miss Wilkins. Please take a seat."

Hermione did as she was told.

"Here is your class schedule," McGonagall said, handing her a piece of parchment. "You have quite the busy term ahead of you. Professor Dumbledore tells me you are a bright student, but I am not sure how closely the curriculum at your previous school corresponds with that of Hogwarts."

"I was thinking about that too. I'm worried that, being a late transfer, I'm a little behind."

"Well, Miss Wilkins, that is why—"

There was a rap on the door.

"That must be Mr. Lupin," said McGonagall.

Hermione started. "Lupin?"

"Come in," the older witch called.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Lupin stepped into the office but stopped short when he caught sight of Hermione. He looked apprehensively between her and McGonagall.

The Transfiguration teacher arched an eyebrow. "Guilty conscience, Mr. Lupin?"

Lupin paled slightly, and Hermione thought she knew why he was fearful. He was afraid because of what had happened the morning before, scared that she might have accused him of some wrongdoing.

"You are not in trouble this time," said McGonagall with a hint of a smile. "I want to introduce you to our new transfer student, Jean Wilkins. Miss Wilkins, this is your new classmate Remus Lupin."

As manners dictated, Hermione stood up to shake his hand, but their intimate position the previous morning was in the forefront of her mind. Apparently, it was on his mind too because they both flushed at the contact and retracted their hands from each other rather quickly.

McGonagall glanced between them curiously as they sat down. Then she continued.

"He is one of our top students and has the same schedule as you, so I have assigned him to be your study partner. Mr. Lupin, you are to help Miss Wilkins get caught up in her classes and answer any questions she may have."

She looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, of course, Professor," Lupin said.

"Very good. Now, I think—"

The door flew open and a boy with shaggy brown hair appeared.

"Sorry to interrupt, Professor, but Peeves—"

"Oh, not again," McGonagall said.

"He's dropping Dungbombs in the corridor upstairs, Professor," said the shaggy-haired boy gleefully, but his grin was quickly wiped off his face by McGonagall's annoyed expression.

"Mr. Lupin, Miss Wilkins, I'm afraid I need to go straighten out a certain poltergeist," said the irritated McGonagall. "The two of you should hurry down to breakfast before classes begin."

The four of them exited McGonagall's office, and the older witch and the shaggy-haired boy headed toward a staircase while Hermione lingered uncertainly in the corridor with Lupin. She met his eyes tentatively.

"I suppose we should, um, talk about…you know…what happened yesterday."

He gave her a questioning look. "What exactly _did_ happen?"

Finding it difficult to hold Lupin's steady gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, Hermione glanced between him and a spot on the floor as she spoke next.

"I'm not entirely sure. There must have been some kind of mix up with the Portkey. You see, I was supposed to arrive here at Hogwarts by Portkey at noon yesterday. Outside the school gates. I don't know how I ended up in your dormitory. I was asleep when it happened, when I was transported."

Lupin studied her closely with his green-gray eyes, and Hermione wasn't sure whether he believed her. She knew, and she knew that he knew, a person couldn't be transported directly into Hogwarts by Portkey or Apparition. She fidgeted with the strap of her book bag as she waited for him to respond.

"I was going to follow you when you ran out the door," he said finally. "To make sure you were okay. But…I thought I might have imagined it all. You were gone before I could wrap my head around you being there."

"I'm sorry I ran off like that without saying anything. I panicked. I was just startled to wake up like that, with you..." Hermione trailed off, her face heating up.

" _I'm_ sorry. I was the one who was— I mean, I was asleep too. I didn't mean to…" Lupin apologized, his face also gaining color.

"It's okay. Neither of us knew what was happening."

A long moment of awkward silence followed. Then Hermione sighed.

"Look, I don't want things to be weird between us," she said. "Especially now that McGonagall's made us study partners."

"Neither do I."

"Maybe we can pretend that never happened? Start all over?" she proposed hopefully.

"Yes," Lupin said, jumping at the suggestion. "I'd like that."

"Great," Hermione said, relieved. "But first…" She pulled Lupin's cloak out of her bag and handed it back to him. "Thank you for that."

"No problem," he said, stuffing it into his own bag.

"Okay. Now, let's pretend we first meet when I'm wandering around, lost, and I finally find another student, you, whom I can ask for directions. Alright?"

"Sure," Lupin said, looking amused by her idea to play-act.

Hermione feigned seeing him for the first time.

"Hello, there. My name is Jean," she greeted. "I'm new here. Can you tell me where the Great Hall is?"

"Nice to meet you, Jean," Lupin replied, a trace of humor in his voice.

Hermione knew this was silly, but she was glad he was going along with it.

"I'm Remus. I'm heading to the Great Hall myself. I'll show you the way."

"Great, thank you," she said, and flashed him a smile.

When Lupin returned it with his own kind smile, she experienced an unexpected fluttering in her stomach—butterflies. Hermione tried to ignore the feeling. She didn't want to reflect upon what it meant. She most definitely did not want to go there. That could only make matters more complicated, and matters were already complicated enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully, Hermione felt the awkwardness between her and Lupin diminish considerably after they "started over." They made their way to the Great Hall together and headed toward a group of students at the Gryffindor table that included Marcia, Kirsten, and two boys Hermione recognized instantly.

Peter Pettigrew looked much like his older self—pointed, rat-like face and beady eyes—but her attention was taken by the person sitting next to him. Sirius Black had been a handsome man even after spending over a decade in Azkaban, but his younger, less troubled self was simply gorgeous. He had movie star good looks with his dark hair, smoldering eyes, and devil-may-care aura. His gaze met hers as she walked up to his group, and Hermione couldn't help but blush.

"Let's ask the new girl," she heard him say.

Kirsten turned around.

"Hey, guys. Have you seen Lily and James? Neither of them has showed up to breakfast, and we're dying to know what's going on between them."

"James was waiting for Lily outside our dorm earlier," Hermione told them as she and Lupin settled down on the bench. "I left them alone so they could talk."

"You didn't hear if Lily said yes?"

Hermione shook her head and grabbed some toast. "James is quite persistent, though, isn't he?"

"That he is," Sirius agreed.

"I think it's finally paid off," Lupin said, and everyone followed his gaze.

Walking towards them, hand in hand, were Lily and James. James grinned at his staring friends, and Lupin, Sirius, and Peter erupted into exultant cheers. Marcia, Kirsten, and Hermione joined in, as did some of their spontaneous fellow Gryffindors. They were so loud that people from all around the Great Hall glanced around to see what the commotion was about.

"Thanks guys, but can you stop that now, please," Lily said as she sat down, pink in the face from all the attention.

"You heard _my girlfriend_ ," said James, and Lily rolled her eyes at his emphasis on the last two words. "Cut it out."

"All I have to say is: finally!" Marcia said, and everyone laughed.

Lily and James looked at each other sheepishly and smiled.

* * *

"They looked really happy together," Hermione remarked to Lupin on the way to their first class.

"James has fancied Lily since the first train ride to Hogwarts," he told her. "This is a dream come true for him."

Hermione felt so privileged to have been here to see James and Lily officially get together. This was the start of their beautiful relationship. She knew that they would come to love each other, get married, and have a son named Harry.

But in a few short years, their happiness would come to an end. Their lives would be robbed…

No — she shouldn't think about that. Hermione had promised herself she wouldn't dwell on the fate of anyone she met. There was nothing she could do to change it. Nothing she _should_ do, anyway.

"What's wrong?" asked Lupin, looking concerned by the sudden change in her expression.

"It's nothing," she lied. "I'm just nervous because it's my first day of classes here, but I'll be okay."

An hour and a half later, Hermione was absolutely _not_ okay.

"I'm so far behind!" she exclaimed, skimming through the notes she'd just taken. She'd never been in a situation like this before. She was always a prepared student, always _ahead_ of the class, not _behind._ "And we have an exam next week!"

"She'll go easy on you this exam," Lupin assured her. "You're new."

"But I hardly knew what she was talking about!"

"None of the professors expect you to get everything right away," he said, watching her exchange her notes for her textbook. "That's why McGonagall appointed you a study partner. I can help you get caught up."

"Do you mind if we study together during our free period? I want to get on track as soon as possible. I've never been behind like this!"

"Only if you promise me something."

"What?"

Hermione was feverishly flipping through the pages of her Arithmancy book when Lupin swiftly seized it out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"Promise me," said Lupin, holding the book out of her reach, "you'll relax a little."

Hermione stared at him.

"It's only your first day," he said. "You'll be fine."

He smiled at her reassuringly, and Hermione looked at him, the book, and back again.

"I think I can do that," she said.

"Good."

Still carrying her book, Lupin started toward their next class. Hermione fell into step beside him.

Outside the locked Charms classroom, students stood talking as they waited for their professor to arrive. Sirius was with the others, casually leaning against the wall. When he caught sight of Hermione coming their way, he followed her movements, deliberately looking her up and down as she walked. He smirked lazily at the now extremely self-conscious Hermione, and she mentally cursed herself for letting him have an effect on her. Lupin silently glanced between them, then stood next to James.

"Hey, new girl," Sirius began.

"Her name is Jean," Marcia reminded him.

Sirius disregarded this and asked, "Do you have a date for the dance?"

"What dance?" Hermione asked.

"The Halloween dance. Next weekend."

"Oh, we forgot to tell you about that," Kirsten said.

"So are you going with someone?" Sirius repeated.

"No, I guess not," Hermione answered. She was surprised that Hogwarts used to have school dances. In her time, the only dance they'd had was the Yule Ball for the Triwizard Tournament.

"Don't worry about it, Jean. It'll be a girls' night," Lily told her. "The rest of us gal's don't have dates either."

"I thought I was your date," James said, taken aback. "Aren't we going together?"

"You never asked me," Lily said.

"I didn't think I had to now. You're my girlfriend. I thought it was implied."

Lily shrugged, and then blinked at him coyly.

"Fine," James sighed, resigned. "Lily, will you go to the dance with me?"

She smiled. "No, but thank you for asking."

The girls laughed.

"Marcia, Kirsten, and I decided a while ago that it was going to be a girls' night," Lily explained to the puzzled James. "So no dates. I'm not going back on it now. It wouldn't be fair."

"You and Josh are done for good then?" Sirius asked Marcia.

Marcia's expression darkened. "Yes, and good riddance."

"Well, here's an idea," Sirius said, looking around the group of Gryffindors. "There are eight of us here. We can pair up. James and Lily, obviously; Remus and Kirsten; Marcia and Peter… I guess that leaves you and me, new girl."

"My name is Jean," Hermione told him, and Sirius's eyebrows rose slightly. He glanced between her and Lupin, a small smile playing around his lips, and Hermione realized she'd unconsciously shifted closer to the younger version of her ex-professor. She shifted away from him again at once, hoping Sirius wasn't reading too much into the subtle movement she'd made before.

Marcia, who'd looked less than thrilled at the date Sirius had assigned her, said, "I think you're forgetting you already have a girlfriend, Sirius. Remember Darla?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Sirius replied dismissively.

"Whatever she is," said the annoyed Marcia, "I think she expects you to take her to the dance."

Before Sirius could respond, the tiny Professor Flitwick arrived and the students filed into the classroom behind him to begin their lesson.

To Hermione's relief, Charms went much better than Arithmancy. They were practicing Disillusionment charms which she was already comfortable with. Transfiguration didn't go so bad either, and Hermione successfully managed to relax. In fact, she was cheerful by the time her last class of the day was dismissed.

"So, do I get my book now?" she asked Lupin on their way to the library. "I kept my promise."

"Will you start studying frantically again as soon as I give it back to you?" he asked in turn, his eyes twinkling with humor.

"Of course not."

Lupin gave her a look.

"Okay, probably," Hermione admitted.

"I thought so." Lupin smiled but did not hand over her book. "So what changed? A few hours ago you looked on the verge of a minor panic attack, and now you're all cheery."

"I suppose I put things in perspective. It's actually wonderful to be worrying about school again."

"Wonderful? How so?"

"Last year was…"

Hermione struggled for the right word to describe the months she'd spent hunting Horcruxes, the constant fear she'd experienced, the life-threatening encounters, the Battle of Hogwarts, the deaths, the funerals, the search for her parents in Australia. She couldn't find it, so she settled for a major understatement.

"Tough. Really tough. It was a crazy rollercoaster ride of a year. I was constantly on the move and always so anxious, worrying about everyone and if everything would be alright, and—"

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from continuing. She was about to confide in Lupin all that she had gone through, all the feelings she'd felt last year that she hadn't expressed to anyone else. But then she remembered that this Lupin didn't know her. She was practically a complete stranger to him, and here she was, blabbing on about her problems.

"Sounds like you had an intense year," Lupin said.

She knew he was watching her carefully, and she tried to backtrack.

"Well, I am a teenage girl, and we're known to be melodramatic sometimes."

"You don't seem like the melodramatic type."

"I'm just glad all I've got to worry about now is homework and school dances."

And time travel. But for some reason Hermione couldn't be bothered about that particular problem right this moment, not when she was here talking with Lupin.

"So," she said, "I'm going to take your advice and relax a little. I'm going to slow down and take a breath, just stop and—"

"Smell the roses?" Lupin supplied.

"Yeah. Stop and smell the roses."

They walked down the corridor in comfortable silence.

"But, you know," Hermione started again after a while, "I really do need to see that book now."

"I'll hand it over when we get to the library. Reading while walking is a hazard."

"But I—"

"Remember the roses," Lupin interrupted.

Hermione smiled.

* * *

When they were getting ready for bed that night, Lily told Hermione all about the upcoming dance.

"It's Muggle themed, so we're all dressing up like the Muggles do for Halloween. Do you have a costume?"

"No. Do you think it's too late for me to order one?"

"You know, you could probably borrow one of Kirsten's. She couldn't decide what she wanted to be, so she ended up buying two costumes. I'm sure she'd lend you one."

"That would be great," Hermione said. "This sounds fun. We didn't have dances at my old school."

"Adolescents, music, butterbeer… It's a good time guaranteed."

The two girls got into their beds and turned out the light.

"I feel bad about James, though," Lily said into the darkness. "The thing is Marcia broke up with her boyfriend a couple of weeks ago because he was being a total arse, and she was pretty bummed out about it. That's when we decided we'd all go to the dance together. No dates, no boys, no problems. I didn't know at the time that James and I…"

"Everyone seemed thrilled that the two of you got together. I don't think the girls would mind if you went as a couple."

"Maybe not," Lily said thoughtfully. After a short silence, she added a warning to Hermione. "Hey, Jean, be careful with Sirius, will you? He'll have his eye on you because you're new and pretty, but he's a bit of a ladies' man."

"He's not really my type."

"No?" Lily said, sounding surprised. "Most girls can't help but fall for him."

"You never did, did you?"

"Well, no," the redhead replied slowly. "But I think that's because I've always had my eye on somebody else, even if I never wanted to admit it or accept it before."

Surely, she was talking about James.

Hermione remembered Harry once telling her about a memory he'd seen in which Lily appeared to despise James because of his arrogance. Based on what Lily had just confided, however, it seemed that she'd always had an interest in him, even if she hadn't always liked the way he acted. She must have suppressed her feelings for him, or maybe she hadn't even recognized what she'd felt.

Hermione thought about herself and her own feelings. She supposed that she too had always had her eye on someone, only she hadn't become conscious of it until very recently. But she would never admit it to anyone. She found it difficult to even admit it to herself. It didn't matter anyway that she'd realized her feelings. She knew it could never happen, not in this time and certainly not in the future.

Feeling melancholy, Hermione turned over in her bed and tried not to think about Lupin.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few days, Hermione quickly settled into her routine at Hogwarts. A lot of her routine involved spending time with Remus, which she didn't mind in the least. They were together for most of the day, sharing all the same classes and studying together in the library before dinner.

After her first couple of study sessions with him, Hermione felt much more confident about her ability to get caught up quickly with her coursework. Even as a teenager, Remus had the qualities of a fine teacher. He was patient with her initial panic at being behind and focused on getting her up to speed with the most important topics she'd missed. He was articulate and conveyed information in a concise, easy manner. He was an even better instructor when it came to performing spells and doing more hands-on practices.

Hermione wasn't the only person Remus helped. During the classes they had with Peter, he assisted him as well. Though some of the other students made fun of Peter's clumsy spell work, much like some of Hermione's classmates used to laugh at Neville Longbottom, Remus was always kind and patient with him. James and Sirius were not as nice. They liked to poke fun at Peter. They seemed to do it good-naturedly, but Hermione wondered whether their mocking contributed to Peter's wavering loyalty in the future.

Hermione watched them, intrigued by the group dynamics of the legendary Marauders, and also by the members as individuals. Though James looked a lot like Harry, he was more confident—bordering on cocky—and quicker to grin. Sirius came across as a bit haughty. He was also well aware of the fact that he was attractive and desirable, and he sometimes entertained himself by casually flirting with unsuspecting girls—including Hermione. She felt uncomfortable whenever he did this because she couldn't help but think of him as the man she knew in the future. If the Sirius she knew in her time had talked to her and looked at her the way his younger self was doing now, it would have been extremely inappropriate.

Hermione was also fascinated by Lily and her friends. Lily was just as friendly, charming, and bright as people described her in the future. Marcia was fiercely independent and unafraid to speak her mind. Kirsten was warm-hearted with a great sense of humor. All three girls were very welcoming of Hermione, and she felt at ease assimilating into their group.

Her other classmates were also very welcoming. Hogwarts rarely had new students besides the incoming first years. Because the seventh years had all known each other since they were eleven, everyone was curious about the new transfer, Jean Wilkins.

Severus Snape, however, did not seem to care that there was a new student. That is, he didn't care until she beat him in Potions.

"I won't be much help to you here," Remus told Hermione when they walked into class on Friday. "I've never been very good at potions."

Luckily, they were working on the Draught of Living Death potion that day. Hermione vividly remembered attempting this potion in her sixth year, when Harry beat her for the first time. She was determined to make up for that today.

Snape, on the other hand, seemed very distracted. He kept looking over at the table where Lily and James were working, his dark eyes watching them closely through his curtain of black hair. The longer he watched them, the bitterer his sallow face appeared.

Professor Slughorn walked around checking their potions towards the end of class. He was clearly disappointed by Snape's attempt but was pleasantly shocked by Hermione's perfect brew.

"Oho! Miss Wilkins, this is extraordinary work!" Slughorn praised her in front of the whole class.

Snape transferred his glare to Hermione.

"That's impressive," said Remus.

"Not really," Hermione replied modestly. "We covered that potion already at my old school."

"Still, you beat both Lily and Severus, and they're the best in the class."

As she and Remus walked out of the classroom, Snape roughly pushed past them. Hermione watched him stomp briskly down the corridor.

"That's Severus Snape," Remus told her.

"He doesn't seem too happy."

"He's not exactly a cheery fellow."

"He was glaring daggers at James and Lily during class."

"Severus and James don't get along much. Never have."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, though she already knew the answer.

"I think Severus is jealous of James, and James doesn't like people interested in the Dark Arts."

"Severus is into the Dark Arts?"

"He seems to be. Some of the people he hangs around with certainly are. They definitely have a dark sense of humor."

"What do you mean?"

"Some of the Slytherins like to play pranks, or at least that's what they call them. They're often cruel rather than funny. They usually pick on Muggle-borns."

"I know what that's like," Hermione said softly.

"But you're not Muggle-born, are you?" Remus asked, frowning slightly. "I thought your dad worked for the Ministry of Magic?"

"He does," Hermione said quickly, and mentally kicked herself for nearly blowing the background story she and Dumbledore had come up with. "I just meant that I have a friend who's Muggle-born, and she used to get picked on by some nasty people. There was one boy in particular who called her a Mudblood every chance he could get."

"That's awful."

"It was. That's why it felt so good when I punched him."

"You punched him?" Remus said, looking surprised.

"He deserved it," Hermione said defensively, but Remus smiled.

"I don't doubt it. It's just hard to imagine you punching someone."

"Well, I did. Actually, it was a slap. A really good slap. I got tired of taking the high road and ignoring him, and I just snapped. And let me tell you, it felt so satisfying. You should have seen the look on his face."

Hermione grinned at the memory of slapping Draco Malfoy in her third year, and Remus regarded her in amusement.

Just then, a fifth year girl walked up to the pair of them.

"Are you Jean Wilkins?" she asked Hermione. "Dumbledore wants to see you in his office right away."

"Sounds like you're in trouble. He must have heard about your violent streak," Remus said, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione smiled.

"If I get detention, it'll have been worth it."

A few minutes later, Hermione entered the headmaster's office.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Dumbledore greeted her. "How are you getting along?"

"Good," Hermione said, taking the seat across from him as he indicated. "It's still a bit strange, but everyone's been very nice."

"Your professors say you have been adjusting well in classes."

"Remus Lupin has been helping me get caught up, sir."

"Ah, Mr. Lupin. He is an excellent student." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, I called you here because I promised to keep you informed on my plan to get you back to the future. I wanted to let you know I have requested a Time-Turner from the Ministry, a special Time-Turner that will ensure you get back to where—or rather when—you truly belong. I am confident my request will be granted. The Ministry, however, must go through the necessary process of reviewing and considering the request which may take four to six weeks."

Hermione thought about what this meant.

"Professor, I've been wondering… In my time in the future, am I just missing? If I'm gone for that long… I'm sure my friends and family must already be very worried."

"That depends on how this all occurred in the first place," Dumbledore answered. "It could be that you are here for a month, but in the future no time has passed at all. The Time-Turner could return you to the exact moment before you were transported here. We will not know for certain until we send you back or else figure out how and why you were sent here. Is there anything new you remember which could tell us this?"

As much as Hermione had tried to remember something that could be helpful, nothing came to mind.

"No. Sorry, Professor."

* * *

Over the weekend, the weather was mild and not yet bitingly cold. Hermione and the others took advantage and spent a great deal of time out on the school grounds, studying and lounging about. Hermione noticed Remus looked a bit pale and peaky on Sunday and worse on Monday. She knew the full moon must be approaching, so she wasn't surprised when James informed her Tuesday morning that Remus was feeling a bit under the weather and wouldn't be in classes for a couple of days.

"He's ill again? That poor guy is sick more often than anyone else I know," Kirsten said.

"Yeah, well, his immune system's not so great," James mumbled, then quickly changed the subject.

The day without Remus felt longer to Hermione. Her thoughts kept wandering back to him, wondering if he was okay. How did it feel when the full moon approached? It must be painful. The Wolfsbane Potion hadn't yet been discovered at this time, so there was no alleviating his symptoms. Remus would have to suffer through it.

After her last class, when Hermione usually went to the library with Remus, she headed to the Quidditch pitch with Lily and Kirsten instead. They were going to watch the Gryffindor team, which included James and Marcia, practice. Sirius and Peter joined them in the stands.

Hermione watched James, Captain and Seeker of the team, fly with grace and incredible speed. She knew now exactly where Harry had gotten his talent. It was hard to say who flew better, father or son. Marcia was also very good in her Chaser position, unafraid to get physical even when going up against her bigger teammates.

When the team finished practice, James flew over to Hermione and the others.

"Hey, you guys want to fly? There's some old brooms in the locker room we could use."

Everybody else was up for it, but Hermione was reluctant. She wasn't very comfortable with flying. She much preferred her feet firmly planted on the ground.

"There's not enough for everyone," James said after he and Marcia returned from fetching the extra brooms. "Some of us are going to have to double up."

He pulled Lily up on his broom. Sirius mounted one of the extra ones and looked over at Hermione.

"You can ride my broomstick if you'd like, Jean," he offered rather suggestively.

James and Peter chuckled, then quickly sobered at the dirty look Marcia threw them. Hermione mockingly appraised Sirius, then took a broom from Marcia.

"I think I'll fly on this one instead," she replied coolly. "Yours is a bit small."

Everybody roared with laughter. Even Sirius had to grin.

To Hermione's relief and astonishment, she managed to get up in the air without falling off her broom or embarrassing herself. She zoomed around the pitch with the others, flying rather jerkily, but flying nonetheless. They horsed around for a while before beginning a game: Hermione, James with Lily, and Peter versus Marcia and Sirius with Kirsten. The teams were somewhat evenly matched, and they were all having loads of fun until Peter crashed into Hermione.

Fortunately, they were flying very low when it happened because Hermione fell clear off her broom. She landed roughly on the ground, feet first, before tumbling onto her side. She squealed and grabbed at her right ankle in pain.

Everyone landed on the ground around her.

"Why'd you do that for?" Sirius barked at Peter. "She's on your team."

"I — I didn't meant to," Peter said nervously, looking between Hermione and Sirius.

"It's okay," Hermione said. "It was just an accident."

"It's starting to swell," Kirsten noted. "You need to go to the Hospital Wing."

"It looks like it's sprained," James said, assessing her ankle. "Can you stand?"

Hermione tried and winced in pain.

"I'll carry you," said Sirius, and before Hermione could object, he scooped her up in his arms and lifted her easily.

"I'll come with you," Lily said.

"Don't bother," Sirius told her. "You know Madam Pomfrey doesn't like too many people in the Hospital Wing at once. She'll send us away."

"He's right," James said. "Anyway, if it is a sprain, she'll have it fixed in no time."

"I'll be fine," Hermione told the hesitant Lily. "Don't stop playing on my account."

Sirius carried Hermione, who was feeling very awkward being held by him, away from the Quidditch pitch and toward the castle. When they were well out of earshot of the others, he began to speak.

"So, Jean, now that I have you alone and in my arms," he glanced at her with his dark, mischievous eyes, "I'm going to tell you something very personal."

Hermione didn't like the sound of this.

"What?" she asked him guardedly.

"It's about you."

"What is it?" she asked again, unsure of where he was going with this.

Sirius smiled at her wariness, then said, "You're in love with Remus."

Hermione hadn't expected that at all. She stared at him, completely stunned, and he looked back at her in amusement.

"You're in love with Remus," Sirius repeated, stating it like fact. "But don't worry. He's pretty thick when it comes to these things. He doesn't know yet, but I can tell him for you if you want."

"What in Merlin's name," Hermione said when she'd found her voice again, "gave you the idea that I—? I mean, I hardly know him! We barely met a week ago."

"What does it matter how long you've known him for? When you feel it, you feel it. Nothing else matters."

"I suppose, but—"

"I've seen the way you look at him."

"And how exactly do I look at him?"

"The way James looks at Lily. The way a lot of girls look at me."

Hermione's heart began to beat faster. Was it really that obvious she liked Remus? She tried to appear as though she found Sirius's idea completely preposterous.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sirius eyed her closely, then frowned.

"Maybe I'm not as good at reading people as I thought," he said. "But Remus is a perfectly fanciable guy, wouldn't you say?"

"I haven't thought about him that way," Hermione lied. "But it sounds like you have."

"Ha ha. Don't try to change the subject. Do you fancy him or not?"

"Not."

"Huh. I suppose I got it all wrong."

They reached the castle and went through the doors to the entrance hall.

"You must fancy me, then," Sirius suggested playfully.

"That's the most ridiculous thing you've said yet," Hermione replied.

"Ouch. Way to damage my ego."

"Your ego doesn't need my help."

As if on cue, they passed a couple of pretty girls: one of them eyed Sirius hopefully while the other glared enviously at Hermione.

"You're right," Sirius said with a smirk, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

As they turned into the passageway that held the entrance to the Hospital Wing, Hermione's feet bumped into the wall.

"Ow!"

Sirius apologized automatically, but took it back a second later. In a lofty tone, he told her, "It's your own fault, you know."

"How is it _my_ fault?"

"You wouldn't have hurt your ankle if you'd ridden with me. And my broomstick is _not_ small."

Hermione laughed as they entered the Hospital Wing.

"Hey, Remus," Sirius said, flashing a grin.

Hermione's laughter died away. She turned to find Remus watching them from one of the beds. He was sitting up, his face very pale, his tired eyes looking glumly at the pair of them.

"Hey," he said weakly and closed the book he'd been reading.

"Put me down," Hermione whispered to Sirius, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He set her down on one of the beds, then went to retrieve Madam Pomfrey.

"I heard you were ill," Hermione said to Remus. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not yet, but I'll be alright. What happened to you?"

"I went flying with the others and fell off my broom. I'm okay, though. It's only my ankle."

Sirius returned with Madam Pomfrey. As the Healer assessed her, Hermione heard Remus quietly exchanging words with Sirius behind her but couldn't make out what they were saying.

It turned out James was right, and it was only a sprain. Madam Pomfrey had an easy job in healing her ankle. Hermione was free to leave in no time at all.

"We'll see you later, Moony," Sirius said, heading towards the door.

Hermione hesitated. She hated to leave Remus all alone like this. She wished she could stay with him until he felt better, but she knew she couldn't. All she could do was say, "I hope you get better soon."

Remus gave her a feeble smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Thursday evening, Hermione was on her way back to her dorm from the library when she saw a familiar figure walking ahead of her in the corridor. Remus spun around when she called his name.

"I'm glad to see you're out of the Hospital Wing," Hermione said brightly as she caught up to him.

"So am I."

Though he looked tired and off color, Remus seemed to be in better spirits than when she'd seen him last.

"I'm sorry I couldn't study with you these past few days," he said.

"Don't worry about it. You've already helped me out a lot. I did really well in that Arithmancy exam we had, and I'm doing much better in our other classes too."

"That's great. Sounds like you don't need me anymore."

"I _do_ need you," Hermione said and immediately flushed at how the words sounded. "I mean, I could still use some help, and you know, it's nice having a study partner. If you don't mind, of course."

"Not at all. I was actually about to do our Ancient Runes homework now if you want to join me."

"I'd love to."

"We could study in the Gryffindor common room," Remus suggested. "Have you been up there yet?"

"Um, only briefly."

Hermione hadn't been in Gryffindor tower since she'd first awakened in this time and fled from this teenage Remus's dormitory.

"Did Dumbledore make you get sorted when you came here?" Remus asked her as they made their way up to the seventh floor. "All the first years have to try on the Sorting Hat when they first arrive at Hogwarts, but I don't know if they do the same for transfers."

Dumbledore had not required Hermione to try on the Sorting Hat after she'd told him she was a Gryffindor, but she described to Remus her experience seven years ago.

"I did get sorted. It was a bit strange having my head evaluated by an old magical hat like that. It told me that I have a ready mind and I would fit in well with Ravenclaw, but in the end it decided I was best suited for Gryffindor. How was it for you? Did you know you would be in Gryffindor?"

"I'd hoped so. I remember I was very nervous about it. My dad was in Gryffindor, and I wanted to be too."

"What about your mum?"

"My mum was a Muggle."

"Was?"

Remus hesitated, then told her, "She passed away last year."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione said. She'd had no idea. Every day she seemed to learn something new about Remus, who as an adult was extremely private about his personal life.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked.

"Lunar eclipse," Remus said.

The portrait swung forward to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione and Remus set themselves up at a table by the window and pulled out their books.

"Studying again, Jean? Weren't you just in the library?" Sirius said incredulously. Before Hermione could reply, he told Remus, "I never thought I'd meet someone who was as big of a bookworm as you, Moony. You've found your perfect match."

Sirius winked at his friend before leaving them alone again. Hermione thought she saw a touch of color creep into Remus's pallid complexion.

* * *

"I've been meaning to ask you," James said at breakfast on Friday, "what is a 'girls' night'? Does that mean you girls will only be dancing with each other? Or will you be dancing with other guys? Because that's not cool."

"A girls' night is about having fun with your friends and dancing with whomever you want," Lily answered.

"So that means you'll be dancing with other guys?"

"That means the only guy I'll be dancing with is you," Lily assured him sweetly, and James grinned.

"Ugh. That is sickening," Marcia said. She pretended to gag, but then smiled at her friends.

All anyone could talk about for the past few days was the dance: who was going with whom, who was wearing what, would there be a live band… Everyone was very much looking forward to Saturday night.

Early Saturday evening, Hermione, Lily, Marcia, and Kirsten were in the Head Girl's dormitory getting ready.

"What's it going to be: Tinker Bell or Little Red Riding Hood?" Lily asked, holding up the two costumes before Kirsten.

"I think I'll be…Tinker Bell. Jean would look much better as Little Red anyway."

"Great," Marcia said. "Now hurry up you two. It's getting late, and we still need to finish our hair and makeup."

Nearly an hour later, the four girls examined themselves in the mirror. Kirsten wore a bright green dress with iridescent wings on her back and a pouch necklace full of glittering pixie dust. Marcia, dressed as Cleopatra, looked stunning in her Egyptian style dress and carefully applied eye makeup. Lily was insouciantly beautiful as a hippie in a tie-dye dress with a feathered headband over her hair and several bangles around her wrists. Hermione wore a red hooded cloak over a simple white dress and carried a small basket in her hands. She thought she looked rather sweet and innocent with her hair in braided pigtails and the light blush painted on her cheeks.

Once the girls were satisfied with their appearance, they headed down to the Great Hall. It was almost eight o'clock, and there was already a line of students waiting in the entrance hall. Each person had to be inspected by Mr. Filch, who was armed with a Secrecy Sensor, and Professor McGonagall before they could be admitted to the dance. The girls waited their turn, admiring everybody else's costumes. There were lots of hags, vampires, and zombies in their midst.

Professor Dumbledore arrived a few minutes after eight. The crowd of students parted for him as he made his way to the doors leading to the Great Hall. Someone dressed as a mummy followed closely behind him.

"There you girls are," the mummy said when he reached Hermione and the others.

Lily looked him up and down. "James?"

"Yeah. Come on. Let's get in there."

"But there's a line," said Kirsten, indicating the people ahead of them.

"Yes, but we're with the Headmaster," James said with a sly wink.

The girls shrugged and followed him and Dumbledore to the door.

"Albus," Professor McGonagall greeted in surprise. "I thought you were already inside."

Dumbledore smiled at her, and the Transfiguration teacher looked at him more closely.

"Very clever, Mr. Lupin," McGonagall said, the corners of her mouth twitching up. "Best costume I've seen yet."

"Thank you, Minerva," said Remus, bowing to her slightly.

They all laughed. Except for his green-gray eyes and straight nose, Remus made a very good imitation of the Headmaster. He sported Dumbledore-esque robes of purple with yellow stars and matching wizard's hat, a wig of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and (he revealed to them later) platform shoes which made him a few inches taller.

After being checked by the Secrecy Sensor, the gang headed into the Great Hall. Hermione marveled at the festive decorations: animated jack-o'-lanterns that cackled, bounced, and said "boo!" could be found at the center of each of the round tables along the edges of the room; ominous light and shadows flickered from the floating candles overhead; cobwebs, spiders, and orange and black streamers decorated the walls; and several of the ghosts of Hogwarts floated across the floor, amusing themselves by scaring unsuspecting people. There was a stage set up, but the band hadn't started yet. Instead, music was blaring from unseen speakers, and a throng of people danced on the open floor in the middle of the room.

Hermione and the others decided to get drinks first. They made their way toward the buffet situated at the Head Table where the teachers sat.

"James, please tell me you're wearing something underneath those bandages," Lily said, frowning as she examined her boyfriend's costume.

"You'd have to unwrap me to find out," he answered cheekily.

Lily's face tinged with pink and James grinned.

They reached the Head Table. The teachers sitting there stared at Remus and watched as he moved toward Dumbledore, curious to see his reaction. When Dumbledore set his eyes on Remus, his face went blank for a moment. Then the Headmaster burst out in unrestrained laughter. Everybody around them joined in.

"Excellent, my dear boy!" said Dumbledore, wiping a tear from his eye. "Brilliant!"

Hermione and her friends grabbed their pumpkin juice and butterbeer and sat down at a free table.

"Where's Sirius?" Marcia asked.

"Darla cornered him earlier," James told her. "They're probably still talking. Or arguing. She didn't look too happy."

"And Peter?" Kirsten asked.

"He's not coming. He didn't dress up, anyway."

"Oh, no," Marcia said suddenly.

Hermione followed her gaze. A boy dressed as a circus ringleader was heading straight towards them.

"Marcia, can we talk? Please?"

"I have nothing to say to you, Josh."

"You have to let me explain," pleaded Marcia's ex-boyfriend. "It was all just a misunderstanding—"

"I don't want to hear it."

"But I've missed you," Josh said, attempting to take hold of her hand. "Can't we—"

"No, we can't!" Marcia said, angrily pulling away from him and getting to her feet. "And if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do than listen to your sniveling."

Marcia tossed her hair in his face and stormed away. Lily, Kirsten, and Hermione followed her, fighting through the mass of students on the dance floor.

"I can't believe he thought he still had a chance with you," Kirsten said. "You've already told him a dozen times you were done with him."

"He was never a good listener," Marcia replied. "But I don't want to talk about him. Let's just dance, alright?"

And so they did. They danced for a few songs until Marcia's anger dissipated and she was laughing again.

"Look, the boys are watching us," Kirsten said with a giggle.

Hermione turned around. Sure enough, Remus and James, now joined by Sirius, were standing at the edge of the dance floor, talking, laughing, and watching them dance to the music. When the song ended, the girls walked over to them.

"Phantom of the Opera?" Marcia asked Sirius.

He wore a black and red cape over a smart black suit, and a white mask partially covered his face. He looked especially handsome tonight, in a debonair and dangerous sort of way.

"Don't know who he is, but he dresses sharp," Sirius replied. "Let me guess what you all are. Marcia's Cleopatra; Kirsten's a fairy thing; Lily's a…?"

"Hippie," Lily provided. She held up two fingers in a peace sign.

"And Jean, you're a little girl out for a picnic."

"I'm Little Red Riding Hood," Hermione told him.

"She's a character from a Muggle fairytale," Remus explained to the puzzled Sirius.

"Never heard of her."

"Well, besides motorcycles and swimsuit models," James said with a grin, "you don't know anything about Muggle things."

"You hardly know more than I do about Muggles," retorted Sirius. "Have you heard of this Little Red girl?"

"Sure I have. She's a little girl who likes picnics and the color red, and skipping…" James fibbed.

"Skipping?"

Everybody besides James and Sirius were either Muggle-born or half-blood and so were familiar with the story of Little Red. They listened to James and Sirius's discussion in amusement.

"Yes, skipping," James maintained. "And lollipops."

Sirius laughed.

"That sounds like the basis for a lame fairy tale."

"It's actually one of my favorites," Kirsten said. "It's kind of scary. There's this girl…"

As Kirsten told them the story, Hermione felt horrified. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to her before now that her costume might make Remus uncomfortable, that the tale her character came from, one that involved a ravenous wolf, might upset him. How could she have been so thoughtless?

Sirius, on the other hand, was tickled by the story, especially the part where Little Red goes, "Grandma, what big teeth you have," and the wolf replies, "The better to eat you with!" He tried to catch his friend's eye, but Remus avoided his gaze.

After Kirsten was done with her narrative, Sirius grinned mischievously at Hermione.

"Well, Jean, you'd better watch out for the big, bad wolf," he said, clapping Remus on the back. James chuckled. Hermione saw Remus go very pale and throw a sharp look at Sirius, but no one else seemed to notice anything.

"Excuse me," someone said, tapping Hermione on the shoulder. She turned around. Zeke, a seventh year Ravenclaw dressed as a disco dancer, asked, "May I have this dance?"

"Oh, I — um —"

"She means yes," Marcia interfered and pushed her towards him.

Hermione and Zeke walked over to the middle of the floor. The live band had finally made their way onto the stage and were playing a popular hit. The crowd cheered and Zeke whooped loudly.

"I love this band!" he proclaimed over the loud, fast music.

He was a nice guy so Hermione didn't mind dancing with him. She saw Lily and James dancing together nearby and Sirius and Marcia with their respective partners not too far from them. Hermione wondered where Remus was. So as not to appear rude to Zeke, she surreptitiously glanced around. Over to her right, she saw Remus dancing with Kirsten. A startling and unpleasant feeling struck her at the sight.

"Let's move closer to the stage," Zeke suggested, and a distracted Hermione complied.

After the next song finished, Hermione and the Ravenclaw parted. Zeke thanked her for the dance and stayed by the stage, cheering on the band, while Hermione headed over to an empty table. The jack-o'-lantern sneered at her as it bobbed around. She ignored it and watched her classmates having fun on the dance floor. The band also seemed to be having a great time. They were very energetic.

"Would you like a drink?"

Hermione started. She had been watching the lead singer bounding about the stage and hadn't noticed Remus slip into the seat next to her.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the bottle of water he offered.

"They're good, aren't they?" he said, referring to the band.

"Yeah. I really like this song."

"Me too. It's good for dancing."

"Mhmm," she agreed, taking a refreshing sip of water.

"Do you want to dance?"

Hermione nearly choked on her drink.

"I'm sorry?" she gasped.

"Would you like to dance with me?" Remus asked, more hesitant this time.

Hermione blinked.

"I'd love to."

She saw a hint of relief in his smile. He stood up and held out his hand for her. She took it, a nervous energy coursing through her upon the contact.

He led her to the dance floor, and Hermione wondered whether she was only imagining that some of the other students were doing double takes as they walked past.

"Why are people giving us funny looks?" she asked.

Remus seemed to have noticed as well.

"I think it's because of my costume," he said. "It must look a bit scandalous for a professor to be dancing with a student."

Hermione frowned. It _would_ be inappropriate for a teacher and student to be dancing together, yet it was exactly what she was about to do. Remus was her professor in her time, so was it wrong to dance with him now?

"I suppose it doesn't help that I'm dressed up like an old man and you look very young," Remus added.

Hermione felt even more uneasy. In her time, she was half his age.

"Maybe I should lose the wig."

She waited for him to take off his wig. She was grateful people stopped staring as soon as he did, realizing he wasn't really the headmaster, and felt more comfortable dancing with him. It was innocent after all, wasn't it?

In the time it took for Remus to dispose of the wig, however, the song they'd both liked had come to an end. The next song the band chose to play was a ballad. Hermione bit her lip. Slow dancing was much more intimate than dancing to an up-tempo number.

"Do you still want to dance?" Remus asked, picking up on her hesitancy. "I understand if you, er, want to wait for a better song."

"This song's just fine," she said, flashing him a nervous smile.

"Great," he said, and he took her hand again.

Hermione blushed as Remus guided her arm to his shoulder then wrapped his around her waist, placing one hand on the small of her back while his other gently clasped with hers in the air beside them. She looked shyly into his sage green eyes, her heart beating faster at their proximity. She had never been this close to him before. Well, except for that time they'd been in bed together…

But just as they began to sway to the music, the song came to a jarring and abrupt halt. Hermione reluctantly broke apart from Remus as everyone in the Great Hall looked toward the stage, confused. Dumbledore was there now, gazing grimly at them all.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Headmaster said, "unfortunately, tonight's dance must come to an early end."

The crowd expressed their shock and disappointment.

"But it's only half past nine!" someone complained.

Dumbledore held up his hand, and the students immediately went silent.

"Everyone, if you would please head back to your common rooms," he said. "Tonight's festivities are over."

Hermione and Remus joined the throng of murmuring students heading out of the Great Hall and toward the marble staircase.

"I wonder what's happened," Remus said as he walked Hermione to her dorm. "Something very bad, I expect. Dumbledore wouldn't have cut the dance short otherwise."

"I'm sure we'll hear soon enough," Hermione replied. She wasn't as curious about this as she would have been normally; she was too disappointed that she hadn't been able to dance with Remus.

They turned into the corridor that led to the Head Girl's dorm and then stopped in their tracks. There, in front of the portrait of Hogwarts' silhouette, were Lily and James engaged in a kiss.

"Um, I think I should give them a moment," Hermione whispered.

She and Remus quietly backed away around the corner again. They glanced at each other sheepishly.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, I did." Tentatively, Hermione added, "I just wish you and I had actually gotten to dance before it ended."

"Me too," he said. "Maybe next time."

"Definitely. You owe me a dance."

Remus was about to say something when James came into the corridor, looking very pleased.

"Hey, you two," James said when he spotted them. "It's a beautiful night tonight, isn't it? It's a good, _good_ night."

Remus caught Hermione's eye, and they grinned at James's chirpiness.

"Walk with me, Remus. I've got to tell you…" James started.

Remus hesitated, and James looked between him and Hermione.

"Oh, did I interrupt something? I'm sorry. I'll go. I'll see you in the common room, Moony."

James winked at his friend before leaving him alone with Hermione.

"I guess the coast is clear now," Hermione said, indicating the entrance to her dorm. "Thanks for walking me."

"No problem."

"Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, Jean."

Hermione lingered there for a moment, her gaze lowering to his lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss Remus…

Immediately, Hermione felt ashamed of her thoughts.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, quickly retreating toward her dorm and barely giving Remus the chance to say, "See you."

Hermione needed to get a grip on herself. She couldn't kiss Remus—that would be crazy! She shouldn't even _think_ about kissing him. It would be wrong on so many levels. She couldn't afford to think of him in any other way besides as a friend. But it was getting harder and harder to do that the more time she spent with him…

Hermione sighed. Why did she have to fall for him? Why did she have to fall for someone she couldn't be with, someone who would never be interested in her? And why, _why_ had she been sent back in time, transported directly to the younger version of Remus, making it all the more difficult to ignore her feelings for him? If she had been cursed, if someone out there had wanted to hurt her, they'd found an effective method because despite what she felt, Hermione knew she had to maintain an appropriate distance from Remus.

She found Lily in their bedroom wearing an expression much like the one James had worn.

"I've just had the best kiss," Lily told her breathlessly.

Hermione tried not to feel envious as she listened to her roommate talk about her perfect kiss with James.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for all the follows and favs! To those of you who have reviewed, I greatly appreciate your comments. They encourage me to keep posting this story, so thank you all!


	7. Chapter 7

During the week following the Halloween dance, much speculation was going on about what had made Dumbledore end that night early. No one knew for sure, but it was widely suspected to be connected with the expulsion of a sixth year Slytherin.

"I just know it had something to do with those Slytherins," James ranted to the others in the Gryffindor common room. "They didn't want the dance to happen in the first place because it was Muggle-themed. Most of them boycotted it, refused to dress up in Muggle costumes."

"A girl from Hufflepuff told me there were a few Slytherins waiting in line behind her to get into the dance," Kirsten chimed in. "She said they weren't dressed up in real costumes, just their regular school uniforms and white masks. They must not have passed Filch and McGonagall's inspection, though, because she said she never saw them inside after that."

"They probably only wanted to get in so they could pull one of their so-called pranks," surmised Lily.

"I'm glad they didn't get the chance," Kirsten replied. "I'm glad McGonagall foiled their plans."

"Maybe they changed plans," Remus suggested. "Once they were denied entry to the dance, they must have been upset. Maybe they tried something else."

"I heard a fourth year boy from Ravenclaw, a Muggle-born, was hurt that night," Marcia said. "He's still in the Hospital Wing, but his friends have no clue how it happened. You don't think—?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "The Slytherins did it! That's why that guy was expelled— he got caught. He must be attacking Muggle-borns because he's trying to get into You-Know-Who's circle."

Hermione sat in silence as the group speculated about the incident. She had almost forgotten that in this time Voldemort was alive and a great threat. He had prodigious power and was gaining more and more followers, more and more Death Eaters. People were disappearing and the wizarding world was afraid, unsure of who to trust. Times were dark, especially for Muggle-borns like her.

She looked over at Peter. He wasn't partaking in the conversation either. Hermione remembered James saying at the dance that Peter wasn't coming, that he hadn't dressed up. Was it because he was already aligning himself with the future Death Eaters in Slytherin House? Had he participated in their latest prank? Had he already become a traitor to his supposed best friends? She couldn't help but feel a deep revulsion for the rat at the moment, a strong surge of anger for his future betrayal and the deaths he would cause. Worse still was the knowledge that she couldn't and shouldn't do a thing about it.

* * *

Hermione tried not to think too much about Voldemort over the next few days because it terrified her whenever she did. Was she in danger? What if a Death Eater from her time had known she'd been an integral part in bringing about the downfall of Voldemort and had cursed her back to this time in order to kill her? But if he'd had the opportunity to curse her at Harry's party, why hadn't he just killed her then?

Maybe he'd sent her back to 1977 hoping that her presence would alter the timeline of events from that date forward, which could possibly work to Voldemort's advantage. But if the Death Eater had figured out a way to send people back in time, surely he would have figured out a better scheme for his time traveling discovery. He would have come up with a better plan to ensure that Voldemort and the Death Eaters had never fallen from power in the first place, that Harry Potter had never been born. Hermione didn't understand how her presence here would prevent Harry from being born. That plan didn't make sense.

Like every other time she'd pondered how and why she'd been sent back in time, her head began to hurt and she became frustrated with the lack of answers. Fortunately, Saturday provided a helpful distraction from her thoughts on Voldemort and the questions she had about her time travel. It was a Hogsmeade weekend.

Saturday morning, Remus and Sirius joined Hermione, Marcia, and Kirsten as they walked the path from Hogwarts to the nearby wizarding village. Lily and James had gone ahead of them. They planned on spending the day alone together.

"This is Jean's first time in Hogsmeade," Kirsten informed the boys. "We want to show her everything."

"Where should we start?" Marcia asked. "Honeydukes or—?"

"Let's go to Zonko's first," Sirius said. "They have some new products I want to check out."

And so they went to the joke shop and amused themselves for a while, browsing through the large variety of potions and charmed objects designed to produce laughter and hilarious humiliations.

"What are you doing with _that_?" Marcia asked Kirsten when she'd caught her contemplating a love potion.

"Nothing," Kirsten replied, hastily stuffing the product back on its shelf. "I was only looking."

Marcia grinned at her. "Sure you were."

"I know they don't work anyway. I just thought it might be fun to try it on someone… you know, just for a laugh…" Kirsten mumbled.

"Maybe on someone from Hufflepuff? A boy named Jeremy, perhaps?"

"You know I wouldn't."

Hermione lost track of their conversation. Some wizarding money gleaming on a nearby counter caught her attention. Somebody had left behind a few Sickles and a couple of Galleons. She looked around the shop, wondering to whom the coins belonged, but no one seemed to be aware that they were missing anything. She looked back at the coins. The Galleons appeared strange to her. She thought the wizarding money in 1977 must be different than the currency she was used to in the 1990s. She was about to pick up a Galleon to examine it more closely, her hand reached out and she was centimeters from it, but then—

"Don't touch that," Remus warned, and his fingers enclosed around hers, preventing her contact with the coin just in the nick of time.

Startled, Hermione asked, "Why? What is it?"

"The coins, they're not real. They're a product," Remus explained. "You drop one on the floor and wait for somebody to see it and pick it up, and when they touch it, it gives them an electric shock. It doesn't hurt much, but it'll make your hair look an awful mess."

"Oh. I wouldn't want that," Hermione said.

She thanked him for saving her from that embarrassment, but he hadn't exactly saved her from getting shocked. The feel of his hand over hers was producing a different kind of electricity, a much more pleasant kind. She glanced down at their touching hands and Remus, realizing he was still holding her, promptly released his grip.

"What is that?" they heard Marcia ask over in the next aisle.

"Truth or Dare Potion," Sirius answered. "It says on the label here that it's a wizard's supplement to the Muggle game. Do you know how to play?"

"Yeah, of course. I've played that loads of times. Haven't you?"

"No, but it sounds like it could be fun. It says the participants of the game have to drink some of this potion before they begin play to ensure that they honestly tell nothing but the truth and to bind them to carry out any dares they are assigned. This has the potential to be extremely entertaining. What say you, Remus?"

Remus agreed, and Sirius bought the potion.

After Zonko's they visited a few more shops around Hogsmeade, and everywhere they went the shop owners seemed to know Remus and Sirius. Hermione noticed the two Marauders were given special treatment. They were either treated with more friendly familiarity than the other students, like at Zonko's, or they were regarded with a higher measure of distrust. The old couple who owned Honeydukes were amongst those who were especially nice to them. The woman seemed very fond of Remus in particular. When Hermione told that to Remus, he smiled.

"She's only nice to me because I'm one of her best customers. I nearly wipe them out of chocolate every time I'm here."

After they'd all stocked up on sweets from Honeydukes, Kirsten excitedly announced to Hermione, "It's time for the Shrieking Shack."

Hermione glanced at Remus. "The Shrieking Shack?"

"It's the abandoned house at the end of the road there, the one that's all boarded up," said Kirsten, pointing it out to her. "It's one of the most haunted places in all of Britain. You have to see it, come on."

They made their way over to the ominous looking house but stopped quite a distance away from it.

"No one ever goes any closer than this," Kirsten said, looking scared.

"Whatever lives in that shack, you definitely don't want to meet it," Marcia told Hermione.

"The villagers say that violent spirits reside there," Kirsten went on. "They say they often hear screaming, thrashing and crashing, and howls of pain…"

They stood there quietly for a few moments, waiting for the spirits to make their presence known, and Hermione glanced over at Remus. He was staring up at the Shrieking Shack broodingly. If the girls only knew that _he_ was the one who haunted the place, that the screams that the villagers heard were his as he transformed into a werewolf every full moon…

"Enough of this," Sirius said, sounding bored. "The spirits or whatever are obviously taking a nap or something. Let's go get some butterbeer."

They headed over to the Three Broomsticks. The boys went to get drinks while the girls searched for an empty table in the popular pub. They found one at the corner of the room and sat down.

"Look at Sirius," Kirsten said. "He's flirting with Madam Rosmerta again."

Hermione looked over at the counter where the curvy bar lady was laughing at something Sirius was saying.

Marcia looked annoyed. "She shouldn't be encouraging him like that. He's too young for her."

"She's not so much older than us," Kirsten said fairly. Marcia scowled and Kirsten quickly added, "But she obviously doesn't take him seriously. He amuses her, that's all."

"Right," Marcia said and glowered at the beautiful Madam Rosmerta.

Kirsten caught Hermione's eye, and they both raised their eyebrows. Marcia caught their look.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," Kirsten said innocently.

"I know it's not nothing. If you want to say something, then say it."

"What do you care if Madam Rosmerta's interested in Sirius or not?"

"I don't. I just think that since he's still a student, and she's—"

"You fancy him, don't you?" Kirsten interrupted.

" _What?_ No!" Marcia exclaimed, looking horrified. "He's _Sirius_!"

"What do you think, Jean? Does she fancy him?" Kirsten asked with a grin.

Hermione smiled. "I think so."

"I do not!" Marcia exclaimed again.

"You do not what?" Sirius asked as he and Remus reached their table with the drinks.

"Nothing," Marcia said and took the butterbeer he offered her, blushing slightly. Hermione knew it must be true now—Marcia never blushed. She caught Kirsten's eye again and laughed.

"Oh, I'm not the only one, Jean," Marcia shot at Hermione.

"I don't—" Hermione began.

"Not him. His friend _,_ " Marcia said pointedly. "The one that's with him right now."

She was obviously referring to Remus, and Hermione felt her face warm up. It was Marcia's turn to grin.

"So it's true?" Marcia asked, her eyes lighting up.

"I don't," Hermione told her as composedly as she could. She could feel Remus watching her curiously and tried not to look his way.

"I don't believe you," Kirsten said, smiling at her.

"What in Merlin's soggy bottoms are you girls talking about?" Sirius demanded.

"Nothing," the three girls said in unison, and then they burst out in giggles.

Hermione saw Remus and Sirius exchange bemused expressions and she, Marcia, and Kirsten laughed even harder.

* * *

"So, how did your date with James go?" Hermione asked Lily later that evening in the Head Girl's dormitory.

Lily smiled dreamily.

"It was lovely," she said. She put down her magazine to face Hermione on the couch. "But tell me, what were Sirius and Remus talking about at dinner? They said you, Marcia, and Kirsten had a crazy laughing fit at the Three Broomsticks, and they didn't know what was going on or what to do."

"They almost caught us talking about how Marcia fancies Sirius," Hermione told Lily, and the redhead gaped at her.

"She finally admitted she likes him?"

"Not exactly."

"She's still denying it, is she?" Lily rolled her eyes. "That girl is so stubborn."

"How long has she liked him?"

"I'm not sure. I only realized it a few weeks ago. I brought it up to her, but she denied it adamantly. I think she's embarrassed about it."

"Why would she be embarrassed? You said so yourself that most girls can't help but fall for him."

"Marcia doesn't like to be like most girls. And Sirius is exactly the kind of guy she normally despises. He goes out with girls but never seems to take them seriously. Darla for example."

"They broke up at the dance, didn't they?"

"According to Sirius, they were never together." Lily sighed. "I don't know. I think Sirius is a good guy, but he's just having his fun right now. He hasn't gone out with the right kind of girl, one he could really fall for."

"Do you think Marcia could be that girl? Do you think Sirius is interested in her?"

"I don't know. I'll see what I can get out of James. But even if he was and he asked her out, I think Marcia would be too afraid of getting hurt to say yes."

"I think she could be good for him, though," Hermione said thoughtfully. "She wouldn't put up with any nonsense from him. She'd straighten him out a little."

Lily agreed, and the two girls went back to doing their own activities: Lily filling out a quiz in a magazine and Hermione reading a book.

After a while, Lily broke the silence and asked Hermione casually, "What do you think of Remus?"

"How do you mean?" Hermione asked, her eyes going still on the page she was on. Had Marcia and Kirsten relayed to Lily their suspicions about her feelings for him?

"He's a nice guy, right?" the redhead asked, turning the magazine upside down to look at the answers to the quiz. "He's intelligent and kind, and handsome, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I suppose he is," Hermione replied, trying to sound indifferent.

"Well," Lily said, still peering at her magazine while Hermione fidgeted in her seat, "I think he fancies you."

Hermione's book fell out of her hands and crashed to the floor.

" _What?_ "

Lily grinned at Hermione's reaction. She put down her magazine a second time to face the brunette.

"I think Remus fancies you," she repeated, watching Hermione closely.

Hermione could do nothing but stare at her friend, dumbfounded. She'd spent so much energy trying to contain her own feelings for Remus that she hadn't ever considered the possibility that _he_ could have feelings for _her_.

"W-what makes you think that?" Hermione stammered after a few stunned moments.

"He asked you to dance at Halloween."

"He also asked Kirsten," Hermione noted, unable to hide the hint of jealousy in her voice.

"No, he didn't."

"I saw them dancing."

"He didn't _ask_ her. I was there. Kirsten asked him. But he did ask _you_ to dance, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. He was probably just being polite. I was sitting by myself, and he—"

"He asked you because he wanted to dance with you, because he likes you," Lily interrupted. Then, she added thoughtfully, "It's strange actually, Remus liking someone. You see, he doesn't date much."

"He doesn't? Why not?" Hermione asked, much more interested in the subject than she wanted to admit.

"Dunno. It's not for lack of admirers. Kirsten had a huge crush on him back in fourth year, but she was too shy at the time to do anything about it. I don't think Remus ever realized it. And you know Rachel from Ravenclaw?"

The image of a pretty, dark-haired girl came to Hermione's mind, and she nodded.

"She had a major thing for him last year," Lily told her. "She flirted with him relentlessly during Charms class."

Hermione felt a sudden surge of antipathy toward the flirty Ravenclaw. "Did they ever go out?"

"I don't think so. Remus is more reserved than the other guys, and I think all her attentions made him a little uncomfortable actually. He didn't seem interested in her, but I know he likes you, Jean. I can tell. He's always hanging around with you during class and in the library—"

"We're study partners," Hermione explained. "McGonagall assigned him to help me get caught up in my classes."

"But you're all caught up now, aren't you? And you still study together."

"We have the same classes, and we're friends. It makes sense for us to do homework together sometimes."

"You're together nearly _all_ the time. Remus has always been a dedicated student, but James said he never studied this much until you got here. He studies way more now, and it's because he wants to spend more time with you. And haven't you seen the way he looks at you? He definitely likes you."

Lily seemed so sure of it, but Hermione could hardly fathom the idea and what it could mean if it were true.

"And I think you like him too. Don't you?" Lily asked, observing her closely.

"I…" Hermione looked away from her and answered dishonestly. "I haven't thought about him as anything more than a friend."

"If you did, what would you say?"

"It would be entirely inappropriate," Hermione said without thinking.

Lily looked confused. "How would it be inappropriate? You're both single."

Of course she didn't understand. Lily didn't know the complicated nature of the situation, and Hermione couldn't tell her.

"I don't think it would be a good idea," Hermione said simply. "Things are fine the way they are. He's a good friend."

"What if he's an even better boyfriend?" Lily suggested.

Hermione shrugged, starting to feel aggravated. She imagined Remus would be a great boyfriend, but she knew he couldn't be _her_ boyfriend.

"Well, I think you two would make a cute couple," Lily told her. "I think you're perfect for each other."

Hermione gave her a look. Lily raised her hands and eyebrows and said, "Just saying."

Hermione laughed suddenly, surprising the redhead.

"Oh, Lily. Sometimes you remind me of a friend of mine from my old school," Hermione said, thinking of Ginny. "If she were here, she would be pushing me on this too."

Lily smiled. "It's what a good friend would do."

She returned to her magazine, and Hermione picked up her book from the floor. She tried to resume her reading, but she was too distracted. Were her feelings for Remus that obvious? Sirius, Marcia, Kirsten, and Lily had all guessed that she liked him. And if Sirius and Lily knew, James probably knew as well. And if they all knew, then did Remus know too? Oh goodness, she hoped not. Sirius had once told her that Remus wasn't very perceptive when it came to these things, and she hoped he was right.

Could Lily be right? She seemed sure in her belief that Remus liked her, but Hermione hardly dared to think so. Could it be possible, though? She didn't know. He did spend a lot of time with her, and he certainly was very nice to her… But he was kind to everyone. Did he treat her any differently than the other girls? Did he look at her any differently? Hermione had failed to notice if he had, but Lily claimed he did. What if he did like her? The thought gave her a warm, glowing feeling…

But what did it even matter? Suppose it were true and Remus did fancy her. What if he asked her out? Despite what she wanted, Hermione knew she'd have to say no. It would be wrong of her to date him now (especially without the knowledge and consent of the Remus in her time) given their relationship (unbeknownst to the teenage Remus) in the future. He was her professor and nearly twenty years her senior. The bottom line was she couldn't be with him, not in this time nor in the future. If Remus truly did like her now, it would only make that reality all the more heartbreaking to accept. It would be better, easier, if he didn't have any feelings for her at all. That way there would be no chance for Hermione to be put in a position in which she'd be forced to refuse him.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione furtively watched Remus at breakfast on Sunday, studying the way he interacted with everybody, particularly the girls, and trying to figure out if Lily was right. She needed to know if he regarded her any differently than the others. She needed to know if he liked her or not.

Her observation that morning yielded no conclusion, however, because Remus noticed her watching him very early on and gave her a questioning look. Blushing at having been caught staring, Hermione hastily turned her gaze away from him and pretended to be absorbed in the conversation Marcia and Sirius were having. She was too self-conscious after that to look at Remus again during breakfast or to try to study him again when they were all hanging out in the Gryffindor common room later that day.

After a few rounds of Exploding Snap, James announced he was growing bored of the game.

"Let's play something we've never played before," Sirius suggested. He made a quick trip up to his dormitory and returned with the bottle of potion he'd gotten at Zonko's the previous day. "Who's up for Truth of Dare?"

"What's that?" James asked, and Hermione couldn't believe he and Sirius had never played the common Muggle game.

Once Marcia explained the game to him, James was eager to play. Most everybody else was too, but Hermione was not one of them. She'd played a couple of years ago with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George, and though it'd been fun, it had also been embarrassing. Participating in this game often meant performing humiliating stunts and spilling secrets you would have otherwise kept to your grave.

Kirsten and Peter were reluctant to play as well. Peter suddenly remembered he had to finish an essay for class and ran off to the library, but the rest of the gang managed to convince Hermione and Kirsten to play.

They all sat in a circle on the floor away from everybody else in the common room, and Sirius began to pour the potion from Zonko's into the seven shot glasses it had come with.

"Okay," he said when he'd finished filling the glasses. "First things first. To ensure that we only reveal the truth when asked a question and that we go through with all the dares assigned to us, we drink up."

Everybody grabbed a glass and downed their serving of potion at the same time.

"Since I poured the potion, I spin the bottle and ask first," Sirius told them. He spun the bottle, and Hermione watched with everyone else as it rotated. Sirius looked pleased when it landed on Marcia. "Truth or dare?"

After a moment's hesitation, Marcia answered, "Truth."

"What were you girls talking about at the Three Broomsticks yesterday, when Remus and I came over with the drinks, that made you all laugh like hyenas?"

"We were talking about guys that we fancy."

"Who do you fancy?"

"I don't have to answer any follow up questions. What do you care, anyway?"

Sirius shrugged. "Just curious is all."

It was Marcia's turn to spin the bottle. It landed on her Quidditch captain.

"Truth or dare, James?"

"Dare, of course."

Marcia glanced around the room, looking thoughtful, before her eyes settled on one of her other Quidditch teammates and lit up.

"I dare you to go run your fingers through Darren's hair."

"What?" James exclaimed amidst the laughter from the others. "I can't do that!"

"Why not? His hair's gorgeous," Marcia said, and the girls agreed.

"Then why don't _you_ go run your fingers through it?"

"Because that would be weird."

"And how do you suppose it'd look if I did that?"

Marcia grinned. "Priceless."

James got to his feet and headed toward the group Darren was standing with, quietly moving up behind the stocky, blonde Gryffindor Beater. He shot a glare back at his snickering friends, then awkwardly reached out his hand to touch Darren's hair.

Darren turned around, startled.

"Oi!" he said, stepping back when he saw James. "What are you doing?"

Hermione could barely hear James's response over the laughter from her and the others.

"Er… practice on Tuesday," he told Darren. "Don't be late."

Darren stared strangely after his Quidditch captain as he hurried away from him to rejoin his teasing friends.

"I hope you all enjoyed that," James said, grabbing the bottle to spin it next.

"Very much so," Kirsten replied, but her enjoyment faded when the bottle landed on her.

"Truth or dare?"

Looking anxious, Kirsten said, "I suppose I'll pick truth."

"Have you ever fancied one of the guys in this circle?"

Kirsten blushed brilliantly. Marcia had to nudge her before she admitted, "Yes."

James grinned at her. "I know who."

"Me too," said Sirius.

The two of them stared pointedly at Remus.

"Me?" Remus asked in astonishment.

Kirsten giggled nervously and told him, "Don't worry. It was a long time ago."

Hermione was glad to hear that.

"Truth or dare?" Kirsten asked Lily after the bottle landed on her.

Lily answered with a bold, "Dare."

Kirsten thought for a moment, then said, "I dare you to get up on that table and sing for everyone."

"Oh no," said Lily, appearing to regret her choice. "I'm a terrible singer."

Marcia smiled. "Which will only make this all the more fun to watch."

"What am I supposed to sing?" Lily asked.

"The first song that pops into your head," Kirsten told her.

James helped Lily climb onto the nearest table, and several people around the common room turned their attention toward the Head Girl. Her face went pink, and she began to sing.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts..."

Lily paused as more people began to stare at her, some of them bemused and some of them entertained by her obvious embarrassment. She tentatively continued to sing. James joined her and encouraged their fellow Gryffindors to do the same. Many of them did, and soon, nearly everybody was belting out the school song.

"Just do your best, we'll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody cheered at the finish and applauded for Lily who took a humble bow before jumping off the table, clearly relieved that the ordeal was over.

Kirsten smiled at her. "You're not so bad after all. You got a standing ovation and everything."

Lily spun the bottle. It landed on Sirius.

"Truth or—"

"Dare," Sirius interrupted, looking ready for a challenge.

Lily smiled at him impishly. "I dare you to wear Kirsten's Tinker Bell dress for the rest of the game."

The girls giggled, and a resigned Sirius asked, "Where is it?"

Kirsten retrieved her Halloween costume from her dorm and gave it to Sirius who disappeared behind the door to the boys' dormitories while he changed. A brief time later, Sirius reemerged, wearing the bright green dress. He swaggered into the common room, iridescent wings bouncing on his shoulders, and roars of laughter erupted from Remus and James. An extreme case of the giggles affected the girls, and the others in the common room who had noticed Sirius, which was everybody, began whistling and catcalling.

Sirius smirked as he rejoined the circle and said to Kirsten, "I think I wear this dress better than you do."

Kirsten agreed through her uncontrollable giggles.

Hermione was wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes when Sirius turned his gaze to her.

"Truth or Dare, Jean?"

Hermione sobered, realizing the bottle was pointed at her. She stared at Sirius warily. She knew either choice she made would be dangerous with him picking the question or dare.

"Truth," she decided, hoping he wouldn't ask about Remus.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. "Do you think I'm sexy, even in this dress?"

Hermione couldn't deny it.

"Yes," she answered, rolling her eyes.

Sirius grinned.

"Remus, truth or dare?" Hermione asked after spinning.

"Dare."

Inspired by Sirius's costume, she said, "I dare you to throw fairy dust on the next person who comes into the common room."

Remus took the pouch of pixie dust from Sirius and stationed himself over by the portrait hole. It didn't take long for somebody to arrive. Remus already had a handful of fairy dust prepared, ready to throw it immediately upon the person's entrance into the common room, but as he was casting his shot, while he was in mid-motion, his eyes went wide—the person stepping into the room was Professor McGonagall.

A collective gasp sounded from Hermione and the others, but Remus reacted with incredible speed. The fairy dust flew out of his right hand, but with his left he drew his wand and miraculously halted the trajectory of the glittering material just before it reached the Transfiguration professor.

McGonagall looked between the sparkling dust suspended in mid-air and the sparkly-handed Remus. She narrowed her eyes at him, but then walked past without comment.

"Nice save," Sirius said to Remus when he rejoined the circle and returned him the pouch necklace.

Remus spun the bottle. "James, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to act out that dream you had about McGonagall," Remus said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "with McGonagall."

James gaped at him in mild horror, and Sirius laughed.

"Good one, Remus!"

"You had a dream about McGonagall?" Lily asked her boyfriend, eyebrows raised.

James nodded, looking embarrassed for the first time Hermione had ever seen.

"Go on, then," Sirius prodded his friend, and James got to his feet again.

He waited for McGonagall to finish speaking with one of the prefects before approaching her.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

James appeared to steel himself. Then, catching the Transfiguration teacher completely off guard, he threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly, and cried, "I love you, Mama Bear!"

He quickly released his grip from the stunned McGonagall and gave her a sheepish grin. McGonagall looked sternly between him and the circle of students dying from laughter. Her gaze settled on the bottle of Truth or Dare Potion, and she rolled her eyes. Without another word, she departed from Gryffindor tower.

"Mama Bear?" Marcia said before bursting out laughing again.

James scowled at Remus and Sirius. "Why did I ever tell you guys about that dream?"

He spun the bottle, and his mood improved when it landed on his girlfriend.

"What is it about me that you like the most?" he asked Lily with a grin.

Marcia rolled her eyes like McGonagall had done moments ago, but Lily looked thoughtful as she considered the question.

"What I like the most about you…"

"My good looks? My amazing talent on and off the Quidditch pitch?" suggested James.

Lily shook her head and answered instead, "I suppose it would be your loyalty to the people you care about. You really trust and respect the people in your life, and I know you would do anything for them. That's a wonderful quality to have."

The two shared a warm look before Lily spun and asked the question of the game to Marcia. Marcia chose dare this time.

"I dare you to surprise Christopher with a trust fall."

Marcia seemed eager as she got to her feet and walked toward Christopher just as he was crossing the room toward his dormitory. When their paths met, Marcia abruptly cried out, "Surprise trust fall!" and allowed herself to drop over backwards. Hermione and the others laughed at Christopher's alarmed face, but the Gryffindor reacted promptly, catching Marcia before she hit the floor. He righted her again and gave her a confused look.

After they'd exchanged a few words and Marcia had returned to the circle, she looked back at Christopher, who had stared after her, and gave him a wink. His face went pink.

"You know that boy fancies you," Sirius said to Marcia. "It's not nice of you to get his hopes up like that if you're not interested."

"Who says I'm not interested?" Marcia replied.

"Come off it," Sirius said, sounding slightly peeved. "You can't fancy _him_."

"Why not? He's a nice guy."

"He's not your type."

"You don't know what my type is."

Hermione noticed Lily and James exchange a meaningful look between them as their best friends silently contemplated each other for a few moments. Then Marcia spun the bottle.

"Truth or dare?" she asked Sirius.

"Dare."

"I dare you to go on a date with the Fat Lady."

"What? But she's a painting!"

"So what if she's two-dimensional? That seems to be your type."

Sirius chose to ignore her statement.

"Are you going to ask her out now or later?" Remus teased.

In mock curiosity, James asked, "Do you think she's the kind of portrait who snogs on the first date?"

"No way am I snogging her," Sirius said. "Besides the fact that it goes against all my gentlemanly instincts—"

"Sirius a gentleman, ha!" Marcia scoffed.

Sirius chose to ignore this as well and spun the bottle.

"Jean, truth or dare?"

Hermione picked truth again.

"We all know that James has had a dream about McGonagall, but I wonder, has a good teacher's pet like you ever had a less than innocent dream about a professor?"

Fred Weasley had asked her that same question two years ago, and just as she'd done back then, Hermione blushed terribly with embarrassment now.

Reluctantly, she admitted, "Yes."

"Who?" Sirius asked, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Someone here at Hogwarts?"

"Was it Flitwick? I had one about him once," Marcia revealed.

Kirsten giggled. "Flitwick, really?"

Marcia shrugged. "Who was it then?"

"I don't want to say," Hermione replied, determinedly not looking in Remus's direction. "Kirsten, truth or dare?"

The blonde chose truth.

"What's your most embarrassing moment?"

"My most embarrassing moment…I've had so many. I suppose it would be the time I accidentally went into the boys' bathroom. As soon as I saw the urinals, I knew I was in the wrong place. I ran out the door just as a Hufflepuff boy was coming in. He freaked out and thought _he_ was in the wrong place, but I told him I was, and it was really awkward."

Kirsten turned as red as a tomato at the memory, and Lily laughed.

"I remember that. Just be glad no one was using the urinals when you walked in. That would've been infinitely more awkward."

James chose dare when Kirsten asked him.

"I dare you to get in the middle of the circle and show us all your amazing dance skills."

"Happily," James said and jumped to the center of the circle.

He did everything from disco to belly dancing as the rest of the group cheered him on.

After he was done, James turned to Sirius. "Dare, right?"

"You know it."

"I dare you to profess undying love to Moaning Myrtle, and you have to do it right now."

Everybody laughed, and Sirius sighed.

"Fine, but she better not start haunting me. I'll have enough to deal with once I go out with the Fat Lady."

James went with Sirius to make sure he completed his dare while Hermione and the others talked amongst each other and awaited their return.

A short while later, the two Marauders came back into the common room. Sirius was soaking wet and scowling.

"I confess undying love for her and she attacks me! She starts yelling and throwing a fit, telling me that I'm only trying to ridicule her, and the pipes burst, and now I'm drenched!"

James and Remus couldn't contain their laughter. Lily, however, kindly pointed her wand at Sirius and dried him off.

"Remus, truth or dare?"

Remus's laughter died. He appeared suddenly wary of his friend, and Hermione thought she would be too if Sirius were looking at her with that dangerous glint in his eyes.

After a long hesitation, Remus answered, "Dare."

Sirius grinned at him wickedly. "I dare you to kiss Jean."

A small gasp escaped from Hermione. Remus's eyes widened slightly. Somebody giggled.

Slowly, Remus turned his gaze away from Sirius, and his eyes met with Hermione's. She stared back at him in an utter panic. _Merlin's beard—was he really going to kiss her?_

"What are you waiting for?" Sirius asked his friend and pushed him to his feet.

Remus started towards her, and Hermione could feel everybody staring at them. She heard their friends giggling, whistling, and encouraging them on, but she knew she shouldn't let this happen. She knew she should stop this. But how? They'd all taken that potion. Remus had to go through with the dare. He had to. There was no way for her to stop him. And anyway, did she honestly want to?

Her heart beat frantically as Remus approached her. She felt Lily nudge her and tell her to get up, but Hermione couldn't. She sat there, frozen, while Remus stepped before her. He gave her a small smile and held out his hand for hers. Blushing furiously, she gave it to him, thinking he was going to help her to her feet, but instead, after his eyes had searched hers for a long moment, he raised the back of her hand to his lips.

Sirius groaned in disappointment.

"I meant a proper kiss, Remus! On the lips!"

"You didn't specify," Lily said fairly.

"And Remus actually is a gentleman," said Marcia pointedly.

The game went on, but Hermione's heart was still racing, her mind still stuck on what had just happened. She knew she should feel relieved, and part of her was, but the rest of her shared in Sirius's disappointment. Why hadn't Remus kissed her?

When Hermione could focus on the game again, she heard Lily tell Marcia, "I dare you to play peek-a-boo with that girl over there."

Marcia went over to the third-year girl Lily had indicated, tapped her on the shoulder, and then hid her face behind her hands. The girl turned toward her, and Marcia uncovered her face.

"Peek-a-boo!"

The frightened third-year hurried away from the crazy person.

When Marcia posed the question of the game to Kirsten, Sirius interrupted before she could answer.

"You have to pick dare. You haven't done one yet."

"But I don't want to."

"It's not so bad," Lily told her. "The rest of us have done it."

"Okay. Fine. Dare."

Marcia's eyes brightened. "I dare you to run up into the seventh year boys' dormitory and steal someone's underpants."

Kirsten gaped at her. "But what if somebody's up there?"

Remus looked around the common room, then said, "It's empty. Everyone's down here."

"Oh, all right," Kirsten said, steeling herself.

"Our dorm is the one at the top," Sirius told her.

Kirsten made her way through the door leading up to the boys' dormitories. A couple of minutes later, she came back, daintily holding someone's boxers away from her.

"Those are mine," James informed them.

Kirsten giggled and threw them at Lily.

"Hey, I don't want these," Lily said and tossed them to their owner.

"Remus, truth or dare?" Kirsten asked.

"Truth."

Kirsten giggled again before asking, "Have you ever been alone with a girl in your dormitory?"

A faint blush spread over Remus's face. "Yes."

"What _?_ You've never told us about this," James said reproachfully.

"Who?" Kirsten asked curiously.

"And what exactly were you doing up there all alone with this girl?" asked Sirius, looking both amused and impressed with his friend.

Hermione would have very much liked to know that as well, but Remus, avoiding everybody's gaze, responded with, "I'm not required to answer any follow up questions."

Sirius smirked at him, then said to Marcia, "Maybe he's not as much of a gentleman as you think."

The next time the bottle landed on Hermione was when Marcia spun.

"Truth or dare, Jean?"

"You have to pick dare," Sirius told her. "Kirsten did."

"I—"

"You are a Gryffindor, aren't you?" Sirius challenged.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, a little annoyed. "Of course I am. And I was going to choose dare anyway."

Marcia seemed delighted by her choice.

"I dare you to hex Sirius," she said.

Hermione pulled out her wand, smiling wickedly at Sirius, and it was his turn to narrow his eyes at her. He knew she was very good with spells.

"What're you going to do to me?" he asked her warily.

* * *

Later that night, Hermione found herself studying her hand where Remus's lips had touched her and wondering again why he hadn't kissed her properly. If he really did like her as Lily claimed, wouldn't he have taken advantage of that perfect opportunity to kiss her? Perhaps he was only being a gentleman as Marcia had said. Or maybe he simply didn't want to kiss her. Maybe he wasn't interested in her in that way after all. She tried not to feel disappointed about this and reminded herself that it was better this way.

Hermione also thought about the question Kirsten had asked him about having a girl alone in his dormitory. It had occurred to her that the girl Remus had referred to could've been her— _she_ had been alone with him in his dormitory the morning she'd time traveled here. But another thought, an unwelcome and unpleasant one, had occurred to her as well: What if he'd been alone with another girl and in a less innocent situation? What if he'd been with Rachel the Ravenclaw or some other admirer Lily had mentioned?

Hermione didn't like the idea of that one bit. She tried to keep her mind from wandering that direction and instead smiled at what she'd done to Sirius. She'd taken a page out of Ginny's book and done a brilliant Bat-Bogey hex on him. They'd all had a good laugh.

* * *

 **A/N:** I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

"Excellent, Miss Wilkins!" Professor Dalton exclaimed. "Well done!"

Hermione smiled at the praise from her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and proudly watched the brilliant, silvery-white otter she'd conjured move gracefully across the classroom.

"Now," Professor Dalton said to the rest of his students, "let's see how many of you can emulate what Miss Wilkins has kindly demonstrated for us and produce a Patronus of your own by the end of class. Remember folks: think happy thoughts."

The students got out of their seats to practice.

"Was it him?" Sirius asked Hermione, nodding his head in the direction of their Defense professor.

Hermione rolled her eyes. For the past few days, ever since she'd revealed during the Truth or Dare game that she'd had a not so innocent dream about a teacher, Sirius had been pointing out to her different Hogwarts' professors and asking that same question. As she had every other time, Hermione, a little annoyed now, replied in the negative.

"You know, Jean," Sirius said as a wisp of silver shot out of his wand, "Remus here wants to be a profess—"

"Drop it," said Remus sharply, and Hermione was grateful his friend heeded his words.

The class practiced for the remainder of the lesson time, Hermione helping the others. Even though the conditions were easy, nothing like they would be had they actually been face to face with a Dementor, nobody could produce a fully-fledged Patronus like she had, not even Remus. With him being so good in classes, especially this one, and since he'd been the one who'd taught Harry this particular skill, she found it odd that he was having trouble with this charm.

Hermione watched his failed attempts and tried to remember if she'd ever seen him cast the Patronus Charm in her time in the future. The only occasion she could think of was when they'd first met on the Hogwarts Express at the start of her third year. A Dementor had come on board to their compartment, gliding towards her and her friends with its characteristic chill before being driven away by Remus and something silvery that had shot out of his wand — but his Patronus had been shapeless. Hermione frowned. Surely the talented wizard could conjure a corporeal Patronus. He had to be able to. He'd been a member of the Order of the Phoenix and that had been one of their methods of communication.

After class, while Hermione was walking along the corridor with Remus and Lily, the redhead asked her, "How did you get so good at the Patronus Charm? Did you already go over that at your old school?"

"No, Harry taught me," Hermione said without thinking. Instantly realizing her mistake, color rushed into her cheeks. She shouldn't have mentioned Harry to Lily — he was her future son!

Clearly misinterpreting her blush, Lily asked her teasingly, "Who's Harry?"

"He's a friend of mine from my old school."

"Just a friend? Or—?"

"Just a friend. He's really more like a brother."

"Is he very smart like you?"

"Not exactly," Hermione told her, deciding it was okay to talk about him. After all, Lily didn't know she was Harry's mother. "But he was the best in our class at Defense Against the Dark Arts. He learned how to conjure a Patronus in his third year."

"Wow. That's majorly impressive."

"Third year?" Remus said, sounding surprised. "Is that when they start teaching you that charm at your old school?"

"No, Harry took extra lessons."

"He must be a very good wizard," Remus reckoned.

"He is," Hermione agreed. Then, smiling at him slightly, she added, "He also had a great teacher."

"Was it _him?"_ Sirius asked, suddenly coming up from behind them.

Though Hermione pretended to be annoyed again by his repeated question and didn't deign to give him a response this time, Sirius grinned at her anyway, and she cursed the warmth in her cheeks for giving her away. She'd never blushed so much in her entire life until she'd met the younger versions of Remus and Sirius, and while Sirius seemed to enjoy causing her this reaction, she didn't find it fun in the least.

Fortunately for her, the subject turned to Quidditch as soon as Marcia and James joined them.

"We need to win Saturday," said James. "It might prove to be the most pivotal match to winning the Cup."

"We will win," Marcia declared. "We're faster than they are, and I for one am willing to play rougher if it means getting the victory. I know I can take Harris."

They went on talking tactics and Quidditch mumbo-jumbo Hermione never quite understood, but she could tell that this match was very important for them and for Gryffindor House.

And so on Saturday morning, Hermione, Remus, Lily, Sirius, and Kirsten, sat in the stands cheering on the Gryffindor team. An hour into the thrilling, fast-paced game, the scarlet-clad flyers led sixty to twenty, and Marcia, soaring around the pitch with great agility and aggression, already had three goals to her credit. James was circling above the others all the while, scouting for the Snitch and fiercely out flying the opposing Seeker whenever they spotted a glimpse of gold. He so reminded Hermione of Harry, and she felt a pang of homesickness.

"Where have you been?" Sirius asked Peter when he'd finally presented himself at the match.

Peter squeezed into the small space on the bench beside Sirius, the others scooting over to accommodate him, before he answered his friend, but Hermione didn't hear his reply. The unexpected contact between her and Remus distracted her completely. He had shifted closer to her, and already hyperaware of him under normal circumstances, she became rather self-conscious now, an unsettling battle rising within her as his warmth spread to the side of her body pressed against his. Her impulse to move away from him clashed with her urge to get even closer, and she fidgeted uncomfortably. Remus, on the other hand, appeared unconcerned by their proximity and oblivious to her inner struggle.

The score favored the Gryffindors eighty to forty when James made a spectacular dive toward the ground at breakneck speed. Just before he was about to crash into the earth, he pulled up, pumping in the air his fist enclosed around the golden Snitch. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins in the stands groaned in displeasure. The Gryffindors, meanwhile, roared triumphantly, and Hermione, hugging and cheering with her friends in celebration, rejoiced for reasons other than Quidditch when Remus embraced her.

* * *

A few days after the match, a young Hufflepuff boy found Hermione after classes and informed her that Dumbledore wished to see her. She thought this must mean he'd finally heard back from the Ministry about his request for a Time-Turner. Had it been granted? Did Dumbledore have the Time-Turner in his possession right now? Would she be returning home shortly?

Hermione could hardly believe an entire month had passed since she'd first arrived to this time. These last few weeks seemed to have gone by so quickly, though in some ways it felt like she'd been here for much longer than she actually had.

"Time is curious, indeed," Dumbledore said when she'd confided this to him. "I imagine you must miss your home, your family and friends…"

"I do miss them, very much. But it's odd, sir. I've been starting to feel as though this here is my real life, and the life I had in the future was like some sort of dream. I suppose it's because I've gotten so used to being here. I think it'll be a bit strange going home again. Has the Ministry granted your request for a Time-Turner, Professor?"

"I have called you here this afternoon precisely to speak of that matter, Miss Granger. It seems the approval for our request is being delayed due to a disagreement I am having with those at the Ministry. They wish to interview you before granting us the Time-Turner we seek, to verify that you are genuinely an accidental time traveler and to determine your possible motives for being here if you are not."

"Well, that's fair, isn't it, Professor?"

"In theory. I fear, however, they would ask you too many questions and for the wrong reasons. You have knowledge about which we are all curious — where the wizarding world is heading, the status of Voldemort in your time — but this is foreknowledge I believe we should not be given. I have discussed at length with the Ministry my belief that it is safer for everyone involved if you do not reveal to us anything about the future, but they argue you must be here for a reason. They believe it is possible you were sent back in time to help us reach a better future."

"I don't know why I was sent here," Hermione said slowly, "but I don't believe it was to change anything. I know one tiny change can make ripples in the timeline of events and lead to uncontrollable changes in the future… I don't want that. I don't want to be responsible for that."

Dumbledore smiled. "Very wise and sensible of you."

"But if we don't let them interview me, they won't give us a Time-Turner?"

"I assure you we will get the Time-Turner we need, Miss Granger. It just may take a little more time and convincing. If worse comes to worst, you will be interviewed by the Ministry, but I would be there to ensure no unnecessary questions are asked."

Hermione nodded.

"Professor, you said the Ministry believes I must be here for a reason… I keep wondering if there _is_ a reason. Why am I here? I don't think I was purposely cursed here by somebody because it just wouldn't make sense for anyone to do that, so I think it had to be an accident. But then I believe it's too coincidental to be an accident because out of all the times and places I could have been sent to, I was sent here. I was sent to my school, directly to a person I know from the future, and where I could befriend other people that I know of in the future. And though there are some things I would like to change, I know everything that happened in this time happened for a reason. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Perhaps you are not here to change anything," suggested Dumbledore thoughtfully, "but because there is something you must learn."

Hermione hadn't considered that possibility before. "Like what, sir?"

"It could be information regarding one of your classmates, maybe the truth behind an incident that occurred… Perhaps you should take a closer look at the person you know from the future, the person to which you were directly transported here."

Remus. Was there something she needed to learn about him? What could it be? Obviously something very significant if she'd been sent back in time to find it out.

Hermione was walking back to her dormitory, wondering what could be so important about Remus that she'd needed to time travel in order to discover it, when she saw a flicker of light in the peripheral of her vision. She paused along the empty corridor, noticing a door standing ajar to her right. She peered through the narrow strip offering a glimpse into the classroom. Another flash of light.

Hermione stepped toward the door and carefully pushed it open a little further, just enough to slip her body past it. Inside the classroom, her eyes skimmed the profile of Remus sitting atop one of the desks, then turned toward the luminous creature circling the room — a corporeal Patronus, as bright and as powerful as any Harry had ever conjured. It was almost blindingly white as it raced toward her, and left her seeing spots after it suddenly vanished.

"Jean," Remus said, jumping off the desk. "I thought you had an appointment with Dumbledore."

Hermione disregarded this and asked him in amazement, "Your Patronus is a wolf?"

"It — Yeah," he confirmed, rather reluctantly.

He picked up the wand he'd dropped when he'd caught sight of her moments earlier, and Hermione contemplated him in confusion when his gaze returned to hers. Was that shame in his eyes? Disgust? She didn't get it. Why would he…? But then she understood. Though his Patronus was an ordinary wolf, to him it was probably a reminder of his affliction, of his curse, of the part of himself he despised. He probably also feared it could be a giveaway to those around him about what he turned into every full moon. Was that why she'd never seen him conjure a corporeal Patronus before, because he was ashamed? Did he intentionally refrain from producing one in class, afraid somebody might make a connection between his Patronus and his lycanthropy?

"That's a wonderful Patronus to have," she told him. "Wolves are family-oriented and non-aggressive, and they symbolize intelligence, strength, and compassion. May I see it again? Please? It was very beautiful."

Remus hesitated for a moment, then raised his wand. Out of the tip erupted the wolf she'd seen before, and he conjured it with such ease that Hermione suspected she'd been right in assuming he'd purposely held back from producing it in front of all the other students during Defense class.

She took out her own wand to perform the spell, and a brilliant, silver-white otter appeared. It joined the wolf, and together the two Patronuses soared around the room, flooding it with their dazzling light. The otter twisted and swam through the air after the wolf, then nudged it friskily before diving away again. The wolf trotted after the otter next, narrowly pursuing it but never getting too close. They took it in turn to do this, playfully baiting and chasing each other, and Hermione smiled.

"It looks like they like each other," she noted. Then, realizing what she'd just said, she blushed and glanced self-consciously at Remus.

"Yeah," he agreed, his face glowing with the light. "Who knew an otter and a wolf could be friends?"

Friends. Of course. That's exactly what she'd meant. Friends, and nothing more.

Hermione watched as their Patronuses continued their dance, teasing and chasing each other, her otter spiraling through the air. But then his wolf suddenly vanished for a second time. She looked over at Remus and saw his expression had changed. His smile had faded.

"I've just remembered," he said to her, only briefly meeting her questioning gaze before starting toward the door, "I'm supposed to meet with Sirius and Peter before dinner. I'll see you later."

Without giving Hermione a chance to respond, Remus abruptly fled from the room, fled from her.


	10. Chapter 10

"Where's Remus?"

Hermione, who'd been sitting alone at a table in the Gryffindor common room, studying in quiet concentration, looked up from her notes at the sound of Sirius's voice.

"Did he go to the library?"

"No, he went up to your dormitory to get a book," she told him.

"Good." Sirius settled down in the seat next to her. "Sorry, Jean. I tried."

"Tried what?"

"To help you out with Remus."

"Help me what?" she asked, nonplussed.

"I tried to get something going between you two when we played that Muggle game, when I dared him to kiss you."

Hermione blushed at the memory.

"And what makes you think I wanted to 'get something going' with Remus?" she shot at him rather defensively.

Sirius gave her a look. "Come on, Jean. We've had this conversation."

"Yes," she said, remembering when he'd carried her to the Hospital Wing and insisted she was in love with her ex-professor. "And I don't understand why we're having it again."

"Because you lied to me before."

"What does it matter if I lied or not? Why do you care?"

"Remus is my friend, and I'm just trying to help you out. But things didn't work out quite the way I'd hoped that night. Only Remus would turn down a perfectly good opportunity to snog a girl." Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "I apologize on his behalf. He can be an idiot sometimes."

"He's not an idiot, and you don't need to apologize for him. I'm glad he didn't kiss me."

"Really? So that wasn't disappointment I saw on your face?"

"No, it wasn't."

"I'm not buying it."

"Well, I'm not trying to sell it," she said with finality. She then returned her attention to her Transfiguration notes.

After a short silence, Sirius told her, "You're nearly as bad as he is, you know."

Her attention snapped back to him. "What do you mean by that?"

He smiled. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Sirius looked past her.

"Hey, Remus," he greeted, and she turned to see her study partner walking towards them, a thick textbook in hand. "I was just having an interesting chat with Jean here."

"Yeah? What about?" Remus asked, taking a seat across from them.

"That Truth or Dare game we played a couple of weeks ago," Sirius said, a gleam in his eyes as he looked at Hermione, clearly enjoying her unease at where this conversation was heading. "We're having a bit of a disagreement on something."

"A disagreement on what?"

"On how Jean feels about—"

"Nothing!" Hermione cut across him. "There's no disagreement. Sirius is just teasing me, that's all."

"Why are you blushing, Jean?" Sirius asked.

"I'm not blushing," she said, though she knew she was.

He smirked. "The color in your cheeks says otherwise."

"I'm flushed because I'm annoyed with you!"

"If you're annoyed with me, then I must be right."

"Right about what?" Remus asked, looking between the pair of them.

"Oh, you know," Sirius started, and she gave him a pleading look. His dark eyes glittered with amusement. "About how Jean thinks I'm sexy and desperately wants to snog me."

Hermione gaped at him, and he laughed.

"I most definitely do _not—"_ she began, but Sirius didn't let her finish.

"I'd better go before she hexes me again," he said, getting out of his seat. "See you later, Remus."

Sirius winked at her behind his friend's back before sauntering off, and Hermione stared after him in puzzlement and irritation. Why on earth did he say that? Her gaze shifted to Remus.

"I'm not blushing," she maintained, though her face felt warmer than ever.

"Of course not." Remus gave her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're flushed because you're annoyed."

"I am."

"Perfectly normal when you're around Sirius," he told her, flipping through the pages of the book he'd retrieved from his dormitory. "He seems to annoy a lot of girls."

"I bet he does," she muttered.

Remus looked up again, his eyes skimming hers. "Especially when they're interested in snogging him."

"I'm not interested in — goodness no! He was just teasing me because — because he —"

"Because he knows you find him attractive."

"I don't—" she started, but then she remembered she'd already admitted to it during the Truth or Dare game. "I mean, I suppose I do, but—"

"That's also perfectly normal. You're not the only girl at this school who fancies him."

Before she could deny this, Marcia and Kirsten came over to their table.

"Jean, you will not believe…" Kirsten began excitedly, and Hermione was reluctantly absorbed into conversation with the girls.

After a while, she was left alone with Remus once more, but the conversation they'd been engaged in before was not resumed. Although she wanted to tell him that she definitely did not fancy Sirius, she felt awkward bringing it up again and instead remained silent on the subject.

* * *

It wasn't until later that week that Hermione was alone with Sirius again. She didn't like to be. On the previous occasions, all he'd wanted to do was talk about her feelings for Remus. This time, however, he didn't delve into that topic, and he kept talk of his friend to a minimum.

"Remus won't be in classes tomorrow," Sirius informed her as they walked together down to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Is everything all right with him?" she asked, though she already knew that they weren't. Tomorrow night was the full moon.

"His father is very ill. He went home to see him."

Hermione accepted this explanation even though she knew it was actually Remus who was ill. She remembered how drawn and pale he'd looked earlier and hoped this month's transformation wouldn't be too bad for him.

But just like the last full moon, the next day without Remus went by more slowly for her. She missed his presence and so didn't share in the 'thank Merlin it's Friday' spirit of her classmates. After her last class was dismissed, she considered going to visit him in the Hospital Wing, where she assumed he was staying, but then she remembered she shouldn't know he was there. She should think he was at home with his father as Sirius had told her. So she spent the rest of the day hanging out with the girls.

Lily seemed distracted all evening, and when she and Hermione were alone in the Head Girl's dormitory later that night, the redhead was poring over what appeared to be a piece of parchment.

"Where did you get that?" Hermione asked upon realizing the parchment was the Marauder's Map.

"James. It fell out of his pocket earlier and I didn't get a chance to return it. It's map of Hogwarts. Do you see all these dots? They show where every person in the castle and grounds is located." After a short pause, Lily added, "James isn't in the castle."

"He isn't?"

"No. He, Sirius, and Peter left a little while ago. They went out onto the grounds, and then they disappeared somewhere untraceable on the map. Where could they have gone? And what are they doing?"

"Um…" Hermione knew they must be with Remus. The four Marauders must be roaming around somewhere, perhaps Hogsmeade, in their animal forms as Remus, in her time, had once confessed they did every full moon. "I don't know."

In a quiet voice, Lily asked, "Do you think James is seeing another girl?"

"What? No! What makes you say that?"

"Sev told me—"

"Snape?"

"Yes. He told me I shouldn't trust James. He said he's probably going around with other girls behind my back."

"Lily, you can't believe what Severus says. He's jealous—"

"But James lied to me, Jean. He told me we couldn't hang out today because he was behind on his homework because of Quidditch. He said he was going to catch up on his assignments tonight so that he could be free to spend the rest of the weekend with me. But he's not studying, he's… What if he's gone to meet up somewhere with another girl?"

"He hasn't. He wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?"

"Because he loves you. He's been after you for years."

"But why would he lie to me?" Lily glanced back at the map and her eyes went wide. "Look, there they are again! And Remus is with them now! Isn't he supposed to be away? They're not heading back to the castle. What are they doing?"

"They're just…" Hermione trailed off, unable to think of a plausible explanation to substitute the truth or alleviate her friend's worry.

Lily stood up. "I'm going to find out what they're up to."

Hermione stared at her in alarm as she grabbed her coat and pulled it on.

"You _can't_ be thinking of going out there—"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Lily told her. "I need to know what James is doing."

"But — but you can't! It's past curfew. You could get into trouble."

"I don't care."

"Can't you wait until tomorrow to confront James?"

"So he can just lie to me again?"

Lily strode to the door and pulled it open.

"Please, Lily, don't—"

"I'm going."

Lily stormed out of the room, and a panicked Hermione hurried after her. She had to stop her from leaving the safety of the castle. She had to convince her to return to their dormitory, but she had never seen the Head Girl so determined. No matter what she said or did, or threatened to do, nothing could dissuade Lily from her mission to find James and figure out what he was up to.

For the first time in her years at Hogwarts, Hermione wished desperately to be caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris or any of the teachers, but Lily, with the help of the Marauder's Map, was able to navigate her way through the corridors without running into anybody else. When the two girls reached the entrance hall, Hermione begged her friend one last time not to leave the castle.

"Lily, _please_ , we shouldn't—"

"Why are you trying so hard to stop me, Jean? Do you know something I don't?"

"No, I just—"

"Then let me go. I need to do this, alright? You don't have to come with me."

Hermione couldn't let Lily go out there alone — she didn't know there was a werewolf on the loose and she couldn't betray Remus by telling her. So she followed the Head Girl out of the castle and onto the school grounds, praying that Remus and the others were in Hogsmeade, too far away for there to be any encounter between them.

"They were headed in this direction last I saw them on the map," Lily said, and the two girls headed toward the Whomping Willow as well, their lit wands held out before them, Hermione on high alert, glancing around them warily.

They made it to the Whomping Willow but stopped well short of the tree whose branches thrashed about threateningly. Lily consulted the map again.

"I don't know where they've gone."

"Then we should go back to the castle," Hermione told her. "If they're not on the map, then they've left the school. There's no way we'd be able to find them, and there's no use waiting for them out here. They could take ages to show up."

Frowning, Lily took her time looking all around them, searching for any sign of James, and just when Hermione thought she was about to agree to return to the castle, the redhead glanced once more at the map.

"They're there!" Lily exclaimed. She looked up from the map and squinted past Hermione, who spun around and followed her gaze.

 _Oh no…_

A small pack of animals had come into view, and by the light of the full moon, Hermione saw one of them stop in its tracks, stiffen, its snout raised in the air. Then its head slowly turned her direction — a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold, November weather ran through her.

"Is that a — a _werewolf_?" Lily gasped.

Hermione did not respond. She stood there, frozen, staring at the creature she knew to be Remus in terrified awe. It started toward them.

"Oh god!" Lily cast a spell at the werewolf, but the werewolf was too far away and too quick for the spell to hit its mark. So she clutched Hermione's arm painfully tight instead and shrieked, "We've got to get to the castle! _Let's go!_ "

Hermione snapped back to her senses. She and Lily broke into a run. They shot spells behind them as they made a desperate dash toward the castle, but the werewolf persisted, moving with incredible speed. Swiftly and cunningly, it chased after them, coming at them at an angle, then cutting off their path to safety. The girls stumbled as they changed direction. Lily fired yet another spell but missed the werewolf by a meter. It was too fast. It was right on their heels, lunging at them—

A large black dog seemed to come out of nowhere. It bounded past the screaming girls and collided with the werewolf in mid-air. Clawing and snapping their jaws, the two animals fought ferociously, the dog struggling to hold off the werewolf, the werewolf snarling, getting more and more agitated, more and more aggressive.

"Lily! Jean!" James shouted, suddenly appearing before the petrified girls who stood momentarily static, entranced by the sight of the two creatures battling. He seized their arms and dragged them away from the perilous scene. " _Hurry!_ "

They sprinted toward the Whomping Willow, the sounds of the fight fading away with the distance. But just as they were reaching the tree, its branches immobilized now, a loud bark pierced the air. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder to see the werewolf had overpowered the dog and was pursuing them once again.

"Go! GO!" James shouted at the girls, pushing them toward the base of the trunk.

Lily disappeared first through the gap in the roots of the tree while Hermione turned to see the werewolf tearing straight towards her, closer and closer until it was so close she noticed nothing more but its eyes reflecting the moonlight and its own ravenous appetite—

Again, the black dog intervened, and James shoved Hermione into the opening at the base of the trunk. She slid down an earthy slope and landed with a crash into darkness. James joined her a moment later.

"W-where's Moony?"

"Peter!" Lily cried, startled by his sudden appearance.

"He's right outside," James answered his friend. "Sirius is taking care of him."

"You mean Sirius is still out there?" Lily asked, looking very pale and frightened. "And Remus? But — but there's a werewolf—"

"I know," James said. "That's why we need to get you two as far away from here as possible. Your scent is making him crazy…"

"But we're stuck. How are we supposed to get to the castle with the werewolf and that wild dog out there?" Lily asked.

"We can't. The only option we have right now is to follow this tunnel" —James pointed his lit wand down the path before them, "—and get you to the Shrieking Shack."

"The — the Shrieking Shack?" Lily whispered, looking more frightened than ever.

She jumped when a low, menacing growl rumbled above them. It was followed by a sharp yelp and worry crossed James's features.

"Sirius needs help. Peter, take Lily and Jean to the Shack. Get into the room upstairs and put up the protection spells. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You're not coming with us?" Lily asked in alarm.

"I have to help Sirius first."

"You are _not_ going back out there!"

"I have to, Lily. Sirius is in trouble."

"James—"

"You and Jean need to go. Your scent is putting us all in danger. Follow Peter. I'll join you later."

"But—"

"I'll explain later. Please, just go!"

Hermione and Lily heeded his words. They followed Peter along the lengthy tunnel, crawling through the tight space as quickly as they could until they finally reached another small opening. It led to a dark, dusty, and slightly claustrophobic room full of broken furniture.

"This way," Peter said. He led them to a hallway, up a flight of crumbling stairs, and into a disordered bedroom.

He shut the door behind them, and Lily asked him at once, "What is going on?"

"I-I'm not supposed to say."

"Explain now, Peter! James said we're all in danger!"

Peter wrung his hands nervously, but Hermione spoke before he could.

"James said he would explain. I think we should wait for him," she suggested. She knew James would do a much better job than Peter.

"I can't believe he went back out there with that werewolf," Lily said, looking terribly worried. "What if he gets hurt? What if—?"

"He'll be all right, Lily. He'll be fine."

"You don't know that, Jean! We should go back and help him!"

"The best thing we can do is stay here," Hermione told her, sounding much calmer than she felt. "We'd only be putting James in more danger if we go back because the werewolf is attracted to our scent. I think James knows what he's doing and we need to trust his judgment. We should stay put and wait for him here."

Lily reluctantly agreed, and she, Hermione, and Peter waited in the gloomy room in anxious silence for James to arrive. They paced around, all of them too worked up to sit or keep still. Hermione's gaze kept being drawn to the slashes in the curtains, the shredded pillows and bedsheets, the broken pieces of furniture — that was all Remus's doing. She had seen only a short while ago how extremely dangerous he was as a werewolf, how violent he could be. He had tried to attack her. He had come so close…

After what seemed like an eternity, there was a knock on the door and the three occupants of the room jumped.

"It's me," James called.

Lily yanked the door open and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend. In a shaky whisper, she said, "You're all right."

"So are you," he said, hugging her tightly.

"What about Remus and Sirius?" Hermione asked after the couple released each other. "How are they?"

"They're fine," James assured her. "Sirius is a little hurt, but he'll be okay."

"Where are they? Did they make it to the castle? What in Merlin's name were you all doing out there in the middle of the night anyway?" Lily fired at James.

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted.

"I wanted to know what you were up to. I saw when you left the castle," she said, pulling out the Marauder's Map from her coat pocket. "You told me you were going to be studying late tonight, but you lied."

"I… I lied, yes," James admitted, glancing down at the map he and his friends had created.

"Were you meeting up with another girl? Were you sneaking out to—?"

"No, Merlin's beard no, Lily! I wouldn't do that! How could you think—?"

"What were you doing, then? And I want the truth, James!"

James exchanged an uneasy look with Peter, then turned back to the stern and expectant Lily. After a long hesitation, he said to her and Hermione, "I think you two should sit down."

The girls took a seat on the four-poster bed while James and Peter shared another look between them. Then, like the rest of them had done earlier, James began to pace around the room. The others watched: Peter staring at his friend with a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation; Hermione wondering if he was truly about to reveal everything or was quickly concocting some cover up story instead; Lily frowning at him with impatience.

"Well, James?" the redhead prompted.

James quit pacing and faced the girls. He studied them in turn, looking each of them squarely in the eye.

"You both have to swear to me that you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," he said. "Not even Marcia and Kirsten. Do you swear it?"

Hermione and Lily exchanged glances, then answered in unison, "Yes."

"Okay," James said, running a hand through his untidy hair. "I guess — I guess I should start by telling you that the big, black dog you saw earlier — that was Sirius."

Lily regarded her boyfriend skeptically. "Sirius is a _dog_?"

"He's an Animagus," James explained. "Peter and I are as well."

"Are you serious?" Lily asked, looking in astonishment between the two Marauders in the room.

James nodded. "We became Animagi in fifth year. I turn into a stag and Peter turns into a rat. But nobody knows about this. You see, we're unregistered—"

"That's illegal!" Lily said.

"I know, but we didn't think it necessary to register ourselves just yet."

"Of course not! Why register yourself when you could run around doing whatever you like without getting caught? Is that why you decided to become Animagi? Just so you can sneak around like you were doing tonight?"

"No, we — we did it for Remus."

"Is he an Animagus too?" Hermione asked, feigning ignorance.

"No. Remus is..." James hesitated, looking apprehensively between the two girls, but mostly at Hermione. "He's… well… he's a werewolf."

Lily gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth. Hermione did her best to appear shocked as well.

"He's the werewolf you saw tonight," James added.

"Merlin's beard," Lily whispered, looking faint. "Severus was right."

"Severus was forbidden to tell anyone about Remus," James said with a sudden edge in his voice. "Dumbledore made him swear to keep it secret."

"So — so Dumbledore knows?" Lily asked.

"Yes. He had the Whomping Willow planted at Hogwarts and this house here, the Shrieking Shack, built in Hogsmeade especially for Remus, in order to keep everyone safe while he attended school. Every month, on the evening of the full moon, Madam Pomfrey walks Remus to the Whomping Willow and sends him here to transform. He's locked in this house while he's a werewolf, safely out of the way of any humans. And without any humans around to attack, he gets restless and attacks himself."

"The haunting of the Shrieking Shack… the screams and howls… they're _his_?" Lily asked, her hand still covering her mouth. James nodded. "That — that's awful."

"That's what we thought," James told her. "It's awful for Remus to have to go through that, to suffer like that, all alone when it isn't even his fault he's a werewolf. So Sirius, Peter, and I decided to do something to help him with his transformations. We came up with the idea of becoming Animagi. That way we could accompany Remus on the night of the full moon without him being a danger to us. Werewolves are only a danger to humans. We're safe from being infected while we're in our animal forms."

"Wait a minute," Lily said, her brow furrowing. "If Remus is supposed to be locked up in the Shrieking Shack, why was he running free on the school grounds tonight?"

"We like to go out sometimes," James admitted guiltily. "We explore the Forbidden Forest or go to Hogsmeade—"

"But that's really dangerous," Hermione said, echoing her reaction to learning this in her third year. "What if Remus were to give you the slip and attack somebody?"

"Like he nearly attacked us tonight," Lily added.

"Well, usually no one else is out this time of night," James explained. "And when Remus is around us during the full moon, he's not as violent or aggressive. He seems to be able to keep his mind better when we're around rather than completely losing himself to the werewolf when he's alone. We didn't think anyone was in real danger whenever we left the Shrieking Shack with him. But I realize now that was completely reckless of us. When I saw him going after you… I've never been more afraid in my life."

"Where are Remus and Sirius now?" Hermione asked.

"Once we got Remus away from your scent, he calmed down a bit and we were able to get him to go into the Forbidden Forest. Sirius is going to try to keep him there for the rest of the night, but they'll have to come back here before dawn."

"So we can go back to the castle now?"

James shook his head. "I think it's safer if we stay here tonight. We'll wait until Remus transforms back to himself at dawn and then we can go. You two can sleep in here. Peter and I will be in the hallway, taking turns keeping watch. Just in case."

They said their goodnights and Peter and James left the room, shutting the door behind them. Lily looked at Hermione, her eyes still registering her astonishment over everything she'd learned tonight.

"I can't believe Remus… I mean, I've known him for years, and now I find out… Oh, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight…"

Hermione didn't think she'd be able to either. She laid awake, thinking about Remus, for what felt like hours until she finally drifted off to a troubled sleep, her dreams haunted by bared fangs, hungry eyes, and terrible screams…

* * *

Hermione awoke with a start. Was that scream she'd just heard only a dream? Or had it been real? Where was Remus? Had he returned to the Shrieking Shack and transformed back to himself? Was it already dawn? It was difficult to tell in this place. The windows were all boarded up, keeping the light outside from penetrating the rooms. Hermione listened. A creak sounded from somewhere in the house below — there was movement downstairs.

Carefully, quietly, and with the light from her wand illuminating her way, Hermione tiptoed past the sleeping figures of Lily curled up in the bedroom, and James and Peter slumped over in the hallway, and made her way down to the main room of the house. She paused just upon entering it.

On the floor on the far side of the room, a patched blanket draped over the lower half of his body, Remus lay in his human form, his eyes closed in apparent sleep. Hermione examined his face and his bare chest. The deathly paleness of his complexion stood in stark contrast to the darkness of the blood covering his neck and shoulder. Along with those fresh injuries from his fight with Sirius earlier, she could see there were also older wounds marking him. These were cursed scars, she knew. They would never fade away…

The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as Hermione started towards him. Remus opened his eyes. For a moment they were tired and blank, but they quickly focused on her and went wide. He sat bolt upright and scrambled backward, away from her, clutching his blanket in place around his waist, staring at her in utter panic.

"Jean, what are you—? You need to go! You shouldn't be here—"

"It's all right, Remus. It's—"

"No, Jean, you don't understand — I'm dangerous! You need to leave! I'm a— I'm—"

"I know, Remus. But it's morning now. It's okay."

Her words did not soothe him. He stared at her in stricken silence, his wide eyes following her as she moved forward and knelt down before him.

"You're hurt," she said, glancing down at his shoulder. She reached out her hand, but he flinched away from her, shrinking back against the wall.

"Jean."

Hermione turned around. Sirius stood at the other end of the room, watching them with a sober expression.

"We need to go upstairs," he told her quietly. "Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute. She can't know we're here."

Hermione nodded and turned back to Remus. He avoided her eyes now, lowering his gaze to the floor where his clothes lay in a pile beside him. He reached for them, wincing slightly from the pain in his wounded arm, but she sensed he was suffering from more than just the physical distress he'd endured last night. She wanted to say something, anything to make him feel better, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she got to her feet and followed Sirius upstairs.


	11. Chapter 11

Remus was avoiding her. He had been all weekend.

Hermione hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of him since they'd been in the Shrieking Shack the morning after the full moon. She'd assumed he would be spending some time in the Hospital Wing on Saturday, but she'd expected to see him again by Sunday. When he failed to make an appearance at mealtimes, however, she began to suspect he was either more injured than she'd previously believed or just purposely dodging her.

"Where's Remus?" she asked James at dinner.

James glanced pointedly at Marcia and Kirsten sitting beside them.

Kirsten had overheard her question. "He went home to see his father, didn't he?"

"That's right," Hermione said, having momentarily forgotten that James wouldn't be able to answer her openly in company.

All he could tell her was, "I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow for classes."

She hoped so. She could only imagine how Remus must be feeling after the events of Friday night, which had resulted in two more of his classmates learning about his lycanthropy, his carefully guarded secret, and in such a perilous manner.

That night in the Head Girl's dormitory, when Hermione shared with Lily her thought that Remus might be avoiding them, Lily agreed with her suspicion.

"He probably doesn't want to face us yet," she said. "He's probably afraid of our reaction to finding out what he is. I don't blame him."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked her sharply. "Do you have a problem with him now that you know he's—"

"Of course not!" Lily said, sounding stung that she would think such a thing. "It's not his fault he was bitten. And he's still the same Remus, isn't he? I only meant that it's understandable for him to be afraid to face us. Especially you, Jean, since he likes you."

"He doesn't _like_ me."

"I still think he does, whatever you say to the contrary. But either way, he's afraid of what we think of him now."

"If he'd only stop hiding out, we could tell him nothing's changed."

"We can tell him tomorrow. James said he'd be back for classes, remember? He won't be able to avoid us any longer."

Lily was wrong.

Remus didn't come down to breakfast the next morning, and throughout lessons that day, he did all he could to avoid any interaction with the girls. He didn't sit by Hermione in class like he normally did, and he determinedly refused to meet her gaze whenever she tried to catch his eye. Hermione, growing frustrated, felt like grabbing him by the front of his shirt and forcing him to face her, but she didn't want to push things or attract any attention to them. She'd let him be for now and wait patiently until classes were over to speak with him.

But when the final bell of the day rang, and Remus bolted from the classroom before she could stop him or see where he'd gone, Hermione had finally had it. She marched up to Sirius and James in the Gryffindor common room. "Tell me where Remus is."

James shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno."

"Then look it up on that map of yours!" she demanded, but he and Sirius only stared back at her guardedly, almost critically, protective of their friend.

"Why do you want to know where he is?" Sirius asked her.

"I need to talk to him, but he's been rather elusive lately."

"He thinks he's doing you a favor by staying away," Sirius told her. "He's convinced you don't want anything to do with him now that you know what you know."

"That's ridiculous! Why should that change anything? He's still my friend."

"So you don't have an issue with his furry little problem?" asked James, studying her carefully.

"The only issue I have is with him avoiding me the way he has been and not giving us a chance to talk. Now, will you _please_ tell me where he is?"

Sirius and James exchanged a look, then Sirius said, "If he's not in the library, then he's probably up on the Astronomy Tower. That's where he usually disappears to when he wanders off on his own."

"Thank you."

Hermione made her way over to the Astronomy Tower and climbed up the spiral staircase leading to the highest point of the castle. Right through the door that led out to the ramparts, she found Remus, just as Sirius had predicted. He sat with his back against the tower wall, absently sliding a fistful of bluebell flames between his hands as he gazed up at the obscure winter sky, lost in thought.

"Hey."

Remus froze at the sound of her voice. Then, reluctantly, he glanced up at her. "Hey."

"May I sit with you?" she asked him tentatively.

He gave an ambiguous jerk of his head in response. Hermione decided to take it as a nod of consent. She settled down beside him and admired the bluebell flames she was so fond of as he maneuvered them between his hands, though not with the same ease as before.

"I'm glad I found you," she said to him after a short silence. "I've been hoping we could talk."

Remus again went still. "I'm sorry."

"For avoiding me?"

"For putting you in danger Friday night. For deceiving you about — about what I am."

"I like who you are, Remus."

He slowly turned to face her, his eyes finally meeting hers, and frowned slightly. As if he thought she hadn't fully grasped the fact on Friday night, he told her explicitly, "I'm a werewolf, Jean."

"I know. You're also a brave, kind, clever, and—"

"Deadly beast." He extinguished the flames in his hand as he got to his feet and stepped away from her. "That's what I would be to anyone who were to find out about me — a creature to regard with fear, distrust, repulsion…"

"Do you want to know what you are to me?" Hermione asked, rising to her feet as well. Remus looked like he really did _not_ want to know, but she went on anyway. "A good person, the best study partner a girl like me could ever hope for, a great guy… someone whose friendship I wouldn't want to lose."

Remus stared at her, a look of pure incomprehension on his face. Then he shook his head.

"You're just being kind. You don't need to be. I understand if—"

"I'm not being kind," she told him. "It doesn't matter to me that you're a werewolf."

"It should matter. I'm dangerous, Jean. I could have bitten you Friday night. I nearly did."

"You're only a danger to me if I'm dumb enough to seek you out when the moon is full. If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to do that again."

She said her last statement lightly, but her gentle attempt at humor did nothing to lift his frown. He stared at her in an almost troubled bewilderment, like he couldn't believe any rational person could be so casual and accepting of his cursed dual nature.

"Look, I don't care that you're a werewolf, alright?" she repeated. "That makes no difference to me. I only care that you're you, that you're Remus. Nothing else matters."

He continued to contemplate her in silence, looking uncertain still, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's cold out here," she said. "Why don't we go inside?"

Remus shook his head once more.

"Jean, you don't have to—" he started again, but Hermione cut across him.

"Let's go, Remus," she said firmly. Then she took him by surprise by taking his hand.

Remus glanced down at their interlocked fingers, a faint crease between his brows, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he allowed Hermione to lead him back to the warmth of the castle.

* * *

"What was going on with you and Remus earlier?" Kirsten asked Hermione in the Head Girl's dormitory that evening. "You guys weren't talking during class."

"Did the two of you have a row?" asked Marcia, looking amused by the idea for some reason.

"No, we just had a bit of a misunderstanding, that's all," Hermione told them. "But everything's fine now."

Marcia seemed to want to probe further into the matter, but before she could speak again, Lily asked, "So what do you girls think of this one?"

She'd pulled out another dress from her wardrobe, and grateful for the change in subject, Hermione said, "It's beautiful. I think you should go with that one."

"Me too," Kirsten agreed. "It's perfect for Slughorn's Christmas party."

"Will James be going with you?" Marcia asked. "Is he even allowed to after that prank he and the boys pulled on Slughorn last year?"

"I'm sure Slughorn doesn't hold that against them," Lily said. "It was all in good fun."

"You're so lucky," Kirsten told her. "You get to have parties and meet important and fascinating people. I wish I had been invited to join the Slug Club. Don't you, Marcia?"

"Please," Marcia scoffed. "That club's discriminatory and pretentious, don't you think? Most of the members are only invited because of their family connections and blood status."

"That's not true. I'm Muggle-born and I was invited," Lily pointed out.

"That's because you're Sluggy's favorite student," Marcia said.

Lily shrugged and continued comparing her green dress to her blue one.

Kirsten sighed. "I still wish I had been invited."

Funnily enough, later that week, Hermione was invited to join the Slug Club. After Potions, impressed by her excellent performance in class, Professor Slughorn insisted she attend his Christmas party the following weekend. He only vaguely extended the invitation to Remus as well. Hermione got the impression that whatever Lily had said, Slughorn still held a grudge against the Marauders.

As she was walking alone to her dormitory that same evening, wondering what sort of prank the Marauders had pulled on Slughorn, Hermione suddenly heard a muffled cry break the peaceful silence of the corridor.

She turned the corner, and there along an otherwise lonely passageway, she saw two Slytherins taunting a smaller student who was sitting hunched over against the wall, covering his face. The taller of the Slytherins grabbed the wrists of the scrawny boy on the floor and tore his hands away from his tear-streaked face. The bullies laughed. Across the forehead of the young student, written in big bold letters, was the word "Mudblood."

The shorter of the Slytherins pointed his wand at their victim, and a horrified Hermione ran forward, raising her own wand.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, and the startled Slytherins watched as their wands soared out of their hands and into hers.

"What do you think you're doing?" the taller boy asked her in a gruff voice.

"Give us back our wands," the other bully growled.

"I don't think so," Hermione replied. The taller Slytherin started towards her and she pointed her wand at him. "I wouldn't if I were you."

"What? Are you going to curse me?" he jeered, not threatened by her in the least. She, on the other hand, was apprehensive. When he took a step forward, she reacted instinctively, firing a Stinging Jinx at his face.

"Aargh!" The Slytherin's hands shot up to his swelling features. "What did you do to me? My face — I can't see!"

The shorter boy gawked at his friend's distorted face. Then he too started towards Hermione, his fists clenched, but she turned her wand on him next and he grudgingly backed away.

"You two have had your fun," Hermione told them. "Why don't you leave now before Professor McGonagall gets here? Don't worry. I'll make sure she returns your wands safely."

The shorter boy scowled at her, but with his wand in Hermione's hand, there was really nothing more he could do but growl, "You'd better watch yourself," and glare back at her as he led his friend away.

When they were out of sight, Hermione turned her attention to the young boy still hunched on the ground. She kneeled down next to him. "Are you okay?"

He sniffled and nodded, glancing fearfully at where his bullies had disappeared.

"They're gone now," Hermione said soothingly. "It's all right."

"They t-told me they knew I was a M-Mudblood," the boy said, his eyes wet and shiny as he rubbed the word written on his forehead. "They said they could smell it, the — the filth in my blood. They put this on my face so that others could know as well. I w-wish I wasn't Muggle-born."

The boy let out a little sob and Hermione put her arm around him.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with being Muggle-born," she told him. "Those boys are just bullies, cruel and terribly misinformed bullies. Don't believe anything they say, okay? What's your name?"

"Alex."

"Well, Alex, my name is Jean and I think you are a very brave and nice boy. If those Slytherins or anyone else tries anything like this again, you come tell me or one of the teachers, okay?"

"Okay," he said. He wiped his eyes and looked up at her. "Thank you. You really scared them away. You're very good at magic."

"Thanks. And you know what, Alex? I'm Muggle-born just like you."

"You're Muggle-born too?" he said, gazing at her in awe.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, and proud of it." She stood up and helped Alex to his feet. "Come on, let's go get — _ah!_ "

A sharp pain shot through Hermione's hand and the three wands she held flew away from her. She looked around. The two Slytherins had returned and brought a friend. The third Slytherin, a dark-haired boy, caught the wands and handed them back to their owners, keeping Hermione's for himself.

"Do you have your wand, Alex?" whispered Hermione urgently.

"No, I dropped it when they were chasing me."

So she was magically defenseless, and outnumbered, and the three Slytherins knew it. They sneered at her as they approached, closing ranks on her and Alex, and she stood protectively in front of the young, frightened boy, her nerves on edge.

"So you're a Mudblood, are you?" the dark-haired Slytherin said with disgust. "And proud of it?"

Hermione stared at him, a tingle of terrible fear sweeping through her. Something about the way he moved, something about the look in this boy's heavily hooded eyes reminded her of Bellatrix Lestrange…

"I can't wait until filth like you are exterminated," he continued harshly. "But until then, some fun…" He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes flashing with twisted pleasure, and all Hermione could think of was Bellatrix and Malfoy Manor and being tortured. "You won't be so _proud_ to be a Mudblood after this!"

The Slytherin flicked his wand and Hermione was hoisted into the air by her ankle. Next moment, a loud bang, yelling and crashing sounds, and she fell to the floor. Panicked, terrified, she hastily returned to her feet, hearing the echo of Bellatrix shouting "Crucio!" and feeling the ghost of the excruciating pain that had ensued.

Hermione looked all around her. She didn't see Bellatrix anywhere. Instead, she saw Remus standing nearby, his wand still raised and pointing past her. Alex, Lily, James, and Sirius were behind him, staring at her in concern, their lips moving, but Hermione couldn't hear them, couldn't comprehend. She turned. Two of the three Slytherins were lying on the floor by the wall, apparently unconscious. Where was the tall Slytherin? And where was Bellatrix? There. The tall Slytherin, his face still swollen, was lying down but stirring. No Bellatrix.

The Muggle Studies professor came running up the corridor and looked alarmed at the scene before him. He kneeled down beside one of the Slytherins, demanding explanations from the others, then his gaze fixed on Hermione, who turned around wildly when somebody touched her arm. Lily retracted her hand and cautiously took a step back. Hermione glanced all around her once more.

But Bellatrix was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't there, and slowly, Hermione came to realize she never had been. But the fear had been real, and it lingered in her now. She looked around at her friends, her gaze settling upon Remus, and before she knew it, she was clutching him, tears escaping from her eyes, and he was stroking her hair soothingly, whispering words of comfort in her ear.

* * *

Hermione was embarrassed by her freak out. She'd had nightmares about Bellatrix before — being tortured by her at Malfoy Manor; the sadistic witch seeking her out during the Battle of Hogwarts, intent on murder — but she hadn't had one of these dreams in months and so was surprised that the memories still affected her so strongly and that they'd been triggered by today's incident.

Thankfully, none of her friends seemed to think she was weak or that she'd overreacted to what had taken place. Instead, they did their best to cheer her up that night in the Gryffindor common room. They spent a good deal of time cursing the three boys who'd attacked her and hoping that once Dumbledore was informed of the incident the Slytherins would receive a more severe punishment than the loads of detention the Muggle Studies teacher had assigned them. They even brainstormed some ideas for what that punishment should be, one suggestion involving each Slytherin being forced to wear Kirsten's Tinker Bell dress for an entire day, though they couldn't agree on whether this would be more punishing for the three boys or for those who set eyes on them.

Unfortunately, the Muggle Studies professor had given Remus detention as well, for dueling, which everyone agreed was completely unfair. They thought Remus's Stunning Spell, powerful enough to knock three people out cold, merited only praise. They also appreciated the effects of Hermione's Stinging Jinx on the tall Slytherin. The consensus was that the face-distorting jinx had actually improved the boy's appearance. Hermione was effectively cheered up in no time at all.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love reading your thoughts on the story so far, and your comments really are great motivation, so thanks :)


	12. Chapter 12

"That boy's got a crush on you," Remus said, smiling at Hermione on their way down to the Great Hall.

He was referring to Alex, who had not so casually strolled past them moments before, grinning shyly at her and waving hello. Their paths had crossed a suspicious number of times since they'd first met.

"He does not," Hermione said, smiling as well. "He's just grateful I helped him out the other day."

"He's grateful," Sirius interjected as he joined them, "that the person who helped him out happened to be a gorgeous seventh-year girl."

Hermione blinked. Did Sirius Black just call her gorgeous?

"You'd better watch out, Jean," Sirius continued. "If you're not careful, he might catch you beneath some mistletoe one of these days. That is, if I haven't caught you first."

Hermione knew Sirius had no real interest in her and that his flirting should not be taken seriously, yet she still found it hard to hold his gaze sometimes when he smirked at her the way he was doing right now. And so she looked away from him, her eyes landing on Remus, who was watching her and Sirius with a peculiar expression. Fortunately for her, he swiftly changed the subject.

The three of them walked on to the Great Hall, Hermione cautious of all the mistletoe that had been hanging around the castle since December had arrived, but it was more because of Remus than because of what Sirius had just said that she was so wary.

She and Remus had experienced a rather awkward moment between them the day all the mistletoe had appeared. They'd been talking right outside the library when a cheery classmate passing by had called out to them and pointed upwards. They'd both looked up to find that they were standing not quite beneath a sprig of mistletoe but dangerously close. Although they'd both been haste to move away, Remus had reacted faster than she had, practically jumping away from her and proving for the second time he had no interest at all in kissing her. Hermione couldn't help but feel the sting of this confirmation that he didn't like her, and she'd been careful ever since not to put herself in a position like that again. She was becoming an expert at navigating around all the mistletoe in the castle.

In the Great Hall, twelve beautifully decorated Christmas trees stood tall and festive as Hermione, Remus, and Sirius sat at the Gryffindor table for lunch. Remus, however, was only with them for a short while. He needed to speak with a professor before their next class about an assignment he'd missed, so he finished his meal quickly, his expression peculiar and difficult to read again when his gaze swept over her and Sirius before he headed off and left them alone together.

Hermione dismissed her curiosity about Remus's expression for the time being and decided to take advantage of this time alone with Sirius to speak with him about something she found very interesting. Over the past couple of weeks, she'd noticed the notorious ladies' man's normally wandering eyes narrowing in upon one girl in particular. As a matter of fact, he was furtively watching this girl right now. Hermione found it atypical that Sirius, who had a proclivity for casually flirting with members of the opposite sex, was abstaining from engaging in any form of flirting with this girl who had apparently caught his fancy.

"Sirius," Hermione said, causing him to tear his gaze away from where Marcia was sitting at the end of the table.

"What?"

"Now that I have you alone and drinking pumpkin juice," she said to him very seriously, "I'm going to tell you something very personal."

"What?" he repeated.

"It's about you."

Sirius frowned at her for a moment, then he gave a roguish grin, no doubt remembering that was how he'd initiated their conversation several weeks ago when he'd carried her to the Hospital Wing after the Quidditch mishap. "What is it?"

"You like Marcia," Hermione told him, stating it like fact.

Sirius simply stared at her, his eyes revealing nothing, his lips still slightly curved in amusement.

"I can tell her for you if you'd like," Hermione offered pleasantly.

Sirius laughed, then merely said, "I'd rather you didn't."

"Because you fancy her or because you don't?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

Sirius shrugged, then asked, "Are she and Christopher together now?"

"Not officially, but they've been talking a lot lately."

"Then I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her."

"You don't want me to tell her that you don't know whether you like her or not?" Hermione clarified.

"Yeah."

For the first time, she thought she saw a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Fine."

Hermione wouldn't tell anyone just yet, but she observed Sirius curiously during their next class together, specifically his interactions with Marcia. Was she right about him fancying her? And if he was interested in her, then why wasn't he pursuing her? She wondered if he would kiss Marcia if ever he found himself with her beneath the mistletoe. Or would he step away from the Quidditch Chaser as Remus had stepped away from her? Hermione had a feeling Sirius would do the same as his friend, though she didn't quite understand the reason why.

She had yet to come to an understanding later that day when she was walking through the castle on her way to meet Lily and decided to take the shortcut behind the tapestry. Just as she reached the wall hanging that concealed the hidden passageway, Hermione heard Sirius speaking from somewhere behind it. A moment later, she heard a second familiar voice.

"If you fancy her," Remus said, "why don't you just ask her out already?"

"What makes you think I fancy her?" Sirius asked.

"You mention her all the time."

Were they talking about Marcia? Intrigued, Hermione stood there by the tapestry listening to the boys' conversation on the other side.

"Do I?"

"And you flirt with her a lot," Remus added.

Hermione frowned. Maybe they _weren't_ talking about Marcia.

"I flirt with a lot of girls," Sirius replied.

"But you've taken a special interest in her," Remus pressed.

"It's fun to make her blush. And she's cute. And smart."

"I didn't think she was your type."

Hermione wondered who they were talking about…

"Maybe she's my new type," Sirius said. "You know what? Maybe I will ask her out." A long pause. "Would that bother you?"

"Why would that bother me?" Remus asked, sounding vexed.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're in love with her."

Hermione's eyes widened. _Who_ were they talking about?

"Don't even try denying it," Sirius said before Remus could respond. "We've been friends for six years. I know you, Remus. I knew you'd fallen for Jean since day one."

Hermione gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth — _they were talking about her!_

"And I knew you wouldn't do a thing about it," Sirius continued. "Not without a push, anyway. That's why I flirt with her. I thought I could pressure you into making a move before I did, or at least get some type of reaction out of you. Seeing as you look like you want to slug me right now, I think I've finally succeeded."

Silence. Hermione's heart raced as she waited for Remus to say something.

"Well, that was stupid of you," he spoke finally, a quiet edge in his voice. "You should have figured she'd fall for you, like nearly every other girl at this school."

"Jean isn't even the slightest bit interested in me and I think you know that," Sirius argued.

Remus said something Hermione couldn't hear and she leaned in closer to the tapestry.

"She likes _you,_ Remus," Sirius insisted. "It's clear as day to anyone who's ever seen the two of you together. You must have realized it too."

Another silence. Hermione was feeling oddly exhilarated.

"So?" Sirius prompted.

"So what?"

"When are you going to ask her out?"

"I'm not."

Something inside Hermione deflated.

"Why not?" Sirius demanded.

"You know why," Remus said.

Hermione didn't. She wanted an explanation, but—

"What are you doing?"

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the voice behind her. She spun around.

"Are you—?" Lily began, but Hermione urgently pressed a finger to her lips and the redhead fell silent.

After a longing glance at the tapestry, Hermione forced herself to walk away from it. She pulled Lily along with her down the corridor.

"Were you eavesdropping on somebody?" Lily asked, amused.

"Um…yeah," Hermione admitted guiltily.

"Spill, Jean. What's the latest gossip?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I didn't get to hear everything."

Which left her feeling extremely annoyed that evening and frustrated that night as she lay in bed.

Did Remus have feelings for her or not? He hadn't denied Sirius's assertion that he had fallen for her, but nothing Remus had said had been an outright confirmation either. He had, however, made it clear that he was resolved not to ask her out. But why? For the same reason he hadn't wanted to kiss her beneath the mistletoe or during that Truth or Dare game? Because he didn't like her in that way? But then why did it seem he was jealous of Sirius flirting with her?

She didn't know the answers to any of these questions, but she did know for certain she'd be a nervous wreck around Remus the next day.

And so she was. Now that he knew, thanks to Sirius, that she fancied him, how could she not be self-conscious around him? She didn't know how to act. Remus, on the other hand, was behaving no differently than normal towards her. Neither was Sirius. In fact, nothing they said or did even suggested they'd had that conversation about her behind the tapestry. It might never have happened.

By dinnertime, Hermione had nearly convinced herself that it never had happened, but then Remus asked her, "Are you going to Slughorn's Christmas party on Saturday?" and her heart skipped a beat. Was he about to ask her to go with him? But he'd said he wasn't going to ask her out…

"I'm not sure," she told him hesitantly. "Lily's been trying to convince me to go. Are you going?"

Remus shook his head. "I can't. I have detention."

"Oh." Hermione, remembering how he'd gotten into trouble for defending her from the Slytherins, and feeling guilty about it, said, "I don't think I'll go either, actually."

"You have to go, Jean," Lily said. "You already have a dress and everything."

It was true. Hermione had been surprised to find a beautiful dress amongst the clothing that Dumbledore had provided her when she'd first arrived to this time. She supposed it was for occasions like this.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Lily said. "And you never know who you'll meet."

Hermione looked at Remus.

"You should go. I hear David Bowie is going to make an appearance," he said, his eyes alight with humor.

Hermione and Lily laughed. The rumors going around about famous people who might be attending the party had really gotten out of control. Though the rock star was definitely a Muggle, his name had been thrown around as a possibility.

"Hey, it could happen," Lily said. "If he knew about wizards and magic and Hogwarts, I think he would definitely want to come."

"You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?" Remus asked Hermione.

"Absolutely not. Maybe I will go," she acquiesced. "Just in case Bowie does show up."

* * *

"Ready, Jean?" Lily asked as Hermione was making a final adjustment to her simple but elegant updo.

"Ready," Hermione said, giving up on the curl that refused to cooperate.

"Great. Let's go."

Saturday evening had arrived, as well as the time for Slughorn's Christmas party, and the two girls left their dorm and headed toward their Potions professor's office, Lily looking much more excited than Hermione felt.

"Is James meeting you there?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, but he told me he might—"

Lily was cut off by the squeal that escaped Hermione as they rounded a corner and she crashed straight into Remus.

"Sorry, I—"

Remus broke off when he saw who he'd run into and took in Hermione's appearance, his gaze lingering on her shimmering silver gown. Hermione's face suddenly felt very warm.

"You look… You look really nice," he said. "Both of you," he added, turning his gaze toward Lily.

Lily smiled. "Thanks. We thought we should dress up a little for Bowie. It's too bad you can't come with us, Remus."

"Yeah," he agreed, looking much more disappointed about it now than he had the last time they'd talked about it.

He wished them a good time and continued on his way to detention, Hermione staring after him for a few moments, feeling guilty again. It was completely unfair that he'd gotten into trouble just for defending her and wasn't allowed to go to the party tonight. She really wished he could come with them. He still owed her a dance from Halloween.

Hermione walked with Lily the remainder of the way to Slughorn's office, feeling less and less enthused about the Remus-less party with every step. The sound of laughter and chatter and music grew louder as they approached the Potions professor's door, but these sounds that promised enjoyment and were generally thought of as inviting were rather unappealing to Hermione at the moment. She was too distracted to participate in this kind of social gathering tonight.

Lily was halfway through Slughorn's door when she noticed Hermione wasn't following her.

"What's up?" she asked her. "Aren't you going to come in?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think I'm going to take a walk instead."

Concern crossed Lily's features. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. I'm just not sure I'm up for a party anymore. I've got too much on my mind. But you go on. Find James. Have fun."

"Are you sure you're okay, Jean?"

"I'm fine. I promise."

Lily still appeared hesitant, but she said, "Well, alright. I'll see you later" and went through the door to join the party.

Hermione strolled off in the opposite direction. Without a destination in mind, she wandered through the castle corridors for a while before eventually finding herself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It was no wonder her subconscious had led her here where she knew Remus sometimes went to be alone with his thoughts. She felt as he did that this was the perfect place to think.

She sat down with her back against the tower wall, exactly where he'd been sitting on the occasion she'd seen him up here, and watched the night settle around her. The sky was stunningly clear. So many stars pinpricked the black canvas above her. They were impossible for her to count and impossible for her to understand.

Hermione shivered. Her coat was no match for the freezing weather, but she didn't want to go back inside yet. Instead she pulled out her wand to conjure some bluebell flames and arranged them around herself. Lying in the center of the circle of warm, pleasant fire, she gazed up at the sky and returned to her thoughts of Remus.

Were Lily and Sirius right about him? Did he have feelings for her? She didn't know why she cared so much to find out the answer. It didn't really matter. She couldn't be with him either way. If she'd belonged in this time, then maybe they could… but she _didn't_ belong in this time. She belonged twenty years in the future where the circumstances were completely different and a romantic relationship between them would be entirely inappropriate. But then why was she here? She had a strong feeling that the reason had something to do with Remus, but what was it? What was she supposed to learn? And what was she supposed to do with that knowledge?

Hermione didn't know how long she'd been lying there, lost in her wandering thoughts and unanswered questions, when he came.

"You look like you're doing some serious thinking."

Hermione sat up to see Remus standing by the door. "I am."

"Care to share?" he asked, stepping past the bluebell flames to sit next to her.

"Do you believe in fate, Remus?"

He pondered the question for a few moments before answering, "I'm not sure."

"Neither am I," Hermione said. "I've been looking up at these stars and wondering, is everything written up there? Our future? Our choices? Are the ideas of fate and free will contradictory or are they actually the same? I mean, I've seen a lot and I've definitely had to reconsider some of my old modes of thinking. There are real prophecies out there, so does that mean that our lives are dictated by them and our futures are already planned out for us? Or do these predictions just offer us glimpses of our future choices, decisions we'll make for ourselves because of who we are in that point in time? Do our choices dictate our fate? Does fate just depict our choices?

"And time," Hermione continued, rising to her feet and beginning to pace. "I don't understand. For instance, how is time travel even possible? Is time linear or is it more complex than that? Changing the past changes the future, but what if you're living in the past? Doesn't that make the past actually the present? So any choice you make in the present doesn't really change the future because the future hasn't come yet. But what if the future _has_ come but you're sent to the past which is now the present and— hey, where did the future _go_? Did it just disappear or does it still exist?

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, momentarily pausing her stride as a new thought struck her. "What if the past, present, and future are all happening simultaneously and time is just an illusion? What if time is undefined? What if the timeline of events in our lives, in our universe, is ever evolving and reacting to our choices and actions? What if there are an infinite number of alternate futures continuously playing out and being altered? Or do you think there are alternate dimensions or different planes of existence where all possible futures can transpire at the same time? Or maybe—"

Hermione broke off when she caught sight of the expression on Remus's face. He was standing now too, watching her with a faint frown, and she realized she'd been madly pacing about and stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to ramble," she said. "I just got caught up in all these thoughts and, well, it's all so unfathomable! Time and choices and fate…it's so complicated. Some things just don't make sense in my mind, but other things that shouldn't make sense are perfectly clear. Do you think some things are just meant to be? Do you think some things are just meant to happen, whatever the time or dimension? And if they don't happen or aren't happening, does the universe try to make it — I'm so sorry. I'm rambling again. I'll stop."

"Wow," Remus said after a short silence. "You really were doing some serious thinking."

They stood there for a while, quietly contemplating the night sky and their own musings. Hermione's thoughts were still running wild, unable to be quelled, when Remus broke the silence.

"I don't know how our choices and fate correlate," he said, "and I don't know anything about alternate dimensions or any of the infinite number of possible futures. And maybe we're not supposed to know anything about that. Maybe we shouldn't dwell so much on what we don't know and focus on what we do. We're in _this_ dimension and in this time and in this space. The only reality we know is the one we're living in at this moment. The only time we know, the only time we're given to actively experience is right now, the present. We should do what we feel is right with the time we are given. That way we can live with whatever comes next. No regrets."

"Do what we feel is right with the time we are given…" Hermione repeated. Then she was pacing once more, reflecting upon this new idea and how it related to her, a fresh tide of thoughts and possibilities washing over her.

"Jean," Remus called softly, grasping her wrist to keep her from pacing.

Hermione turned to face him, about to begin another long-winded dialogue about her new questions and musings, but the words died in her throat. Something in the way Remus was gazing at her made her go completely still. Though physically restless a moment before, she was motionless now. Even her mind became quiet, all rumination ceasing. She could scarcely breathe. Everything had slowed down, everything except for her heart which had accelerated, beating much too quickly for someone standing so still.

Remus released her wrist to sweep back a stray strand of her hair. Then he softly touched his hand to the side of her face, his eyes looking intently into hers.

"No regrets," he said, just above a whisper.

Hermione's heart pounded away anxiously. She knew what was coming next and felt helpless to prevent it, helpless and unwilling because in this very moment, in this time and in this space, this is what she really wanted. Being on the verge of a kiss with Remus, under a star-strewn night sky, with the warmth and the light of the bluebell flames dancing over them…this felt right.

His lips met hers, a gentle touch, and a spark, a beautiful, brilliant spark that resonated deep within her being, bringing to life a piece of her soul. Consumed with an overwhelming emotion, a feeling words could not justly describe, Hermione returned his kiss, wholeheartedly, forgetting about everything else. Time, space, and circumstance had lost meaning. They'd simply ceased to exist. All that was real, all that mattered in her world was Remus and the feel of his lips on hers, warm and firm and tender as he kissed her, melting away any tension she'd been experiencing, banishing any hesitations from her mind, leaving only a feeling of pure contentment in her heart.

It was powerful, it was perfect, and when he pulled away, she felt breathless and dazed. She gazed at Remus as if seeing him for the first time while feeling as though she had known him all her life.

He took her hand in his. "I really like you, Jean."

Hermione's heart swelled with incredible joy…

"I have for a while now," he revealed.

But then…

"Maybe even since we first met," he said.

Her mind flooded with panic.

"I have to go," she said abruptly, forestalling Remus's next words. "It's past curfew. I should be in my dorm."

"I'll walk you," Remus offered.

"No, that's alright." Hermione pulled her hand away from him and stepped back. "You don't have to do that."

"Jean, I—"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Before Remus could say or do anything else, Hermione quickly retreated into the castle. She started running as soon as she was out of his sight and she didn't stop until she reached the quiet darkness of her dormitory. She leaned back against the closed door with her eyes shut, trying to catch her breath, trying to control her panic.

What just happened? What had she done? She sank to the floor, her head in her hands. Why had she allowed that kiss? Everything was just made infinitely more difficult and complicated.

What was she supposed to do now?

* * *

 **A/N:** So there's their first kiss... Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) Please review and let me know what you think.


	13. Chapter 13

Remus Lupin had kissed her. Remus Lupin had _kissed_ her.

A couple of hours after the fact and Hermione still couldn't believe what had happened. She'd kissed the young man who'd become Professor Lupin, and in her mind's eye she could clearly see the Remus she knew in her time, his expression reproachful as he stared at her, demanding an explanation for her actions here in the past. How could she have kissed the younger Remus without the older Remus's knowledge and consent?

Their kiss had been incredible, but she knew full well that she shouldn't have allowed it to happen. She shouldn't have allowed any of this to occur. She should've never befriended the younger Remus. But how could she have helped it? They'd practically been forced together. She'd woken up in his bed for goodness sake! He had been appointed her study partner, they had all the same classes and would have had all the same friends in common anyway. They were bound to become friends themselves, or at least friendly classmates. Even so, she knew she should have tried to keep more of a distance between them. Maybe then she wouldn't be in this position.

After a restless night filled with a lot of thought and little sleep, Hermione awoke feeling weary and tense and reluctant the next morning. She didn't want to get up because getting up meant facing Remus and having the talk she knew they had to have. She'd tell him she only wanted to be friends. She'd discourage the possibility of anything more developing between them, even if that meant accepting the inevitable awkwardness that would ensue from their talk as well as the risk of losing his friendship. But it was better, she reasoned, to give up her friendship with him here in the past, the time in which she was only temporarily residing, than to tarnish their relationship in her proper time in the future. So, with exceptional effort, she got out of bed.

Lily chatted cheerfully about Slughorn's party as they dressed, but Hermione was too preoccupied going over exactly what she wanted to say to Remus to pay her friend much attention. Lily took notice.

"What's up with you, Jean?" When Hermione didn't respond, Lily nudged her. "Jean?"

"What?"

"Where have you been this morning?"

"I'm so sorry, Lily. I'm a little distracted."

"I can see that," Lily said, looking more curious than irritated at Hermione's inattentiveness. "You were distracted last night, too."

Hermione knew Lily was intimating that she was open to hearing all about what was bothering her, but she didn't want to talk about it. Instead, she prompted her friend to tell her more about Slughorn's party. Lily picked up where she left off.

The two girls left their dormitory and descended through the castle together toward the Great Hall, but when they reached the first floor, Hermione told Lily she'd meet up with her later.

"Where are you going?" Lily asked, looking surprised.

"To the library. I need to get a book. Study."

"Don't you want breakfast first?"

"I'm not very hungry," Hermione told her truthfully.

She also didn't want to go down to the Great Hall because she didn't want to face Remus in front of the others without first speaking to him alone about last night. She would wait until she could get him on his own later.

Lily didn't seem to find it too unusual for Hermione to miss breakfast on a Sunday morning to study. Sometimes when a question struck her Hermione would stop whatever she was doing to hurry to the library and find the answer. Too bad the library couldn't help her in this situation. She couldn't research what a girl should do when she inexplicably gets thrown back to a time before she was even born and kisses the seventeen-year-old version of the professor she secretly has feelings for.

Still, Hermione went to the library and browsed through the section on time travel until she found the book she sought, a book she'd perused before, when she'd first arrived to this time. She wanted to take another look, though she wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for.

With the volume in hand, she started toward one of the tables to skim through the book's contents, but she'd only gone a few paces before she abruptly froze — Remus was there, briskly travelling up the aisle and glancing along the rows between the shelves opposite her.

A tremor of panic ran through Hermione at the unexpected sight of him, and the book she held somehow fell from her grasp. It hit the floor with a heavy thud and Remus's roaming gaze snapped to her. Their eyes locked. The memory of their kiss vivid in Hermione's mind, she was torn between the strong impulse to run away as she'd done last night and the sudden and intense desire to kiss him again.

She wasn't ready to face him yet. She wasn't prepared to fight these feelings that overcame her whenever she was in his presence. But while she hesitated, Remus approached her tentatively. He picked up the book she'd dropped and handed it back to her.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, hugging the book over her hammering heart.

"Jean," Remus said, regarding her uncertainly. "Can we talk?"

They had to eventually, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be better prepared for it than she was now, so she said, "Yes. I think we should."

A loud shush reached them from Madam Pince at the front desk. Though they'd been speaking softly, their voices had carried across the library which was quieter than normal, seemingly deserted besides the three of them.

"Let me put this back first," Hermione whispered, indicating the book on time travel.

Remus followed her back into the row in which she'd found the book, and apparently unable to hold off talking until they were out of the library, he said, "I want to apologize."

Another loud shush from Madam Pince. Remus drew his wand and pointed it in the librarian's direction, silently casting what Hermione guessed to be the Muffliato Charm or a similar spell that would allow them to speak without being overheard.

"I'm sorry about last night," Remus continued in a normal volume. "I shouldn't have kissed you. You were all mixed up thinking about — about determinism and time complexities, I shouldn't have—"

"I really like you too, Remus," Hermione blurted out, the words slipping out of her mouth involuntarily, astonishing her just as much as they did him.

That was definitely _not_ what she had planned to say to him. She should amend her statement right away. She should tell him that she really liked him but only _as a friend_ so he didn't get the wrong impression, or rather the true impression.

But as she looked into Remus's handsome face and his kind and clever, green-gray eyes, Hermione suddenly found that she didn't want to hide the way she felt about him. What she wanted to do was kiss him. Would it be so wrong if she did that? She'd kissed him last night so the damage was already done anyway, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry?" Remus said, looking as though he didn't dare believe what he thought he'd heard her say.

With the pretext of replacing her book upon its shelf, Hermione turned away from him, trying to buy some time to get a better grip on her emotions. Her fingers fumbled, though, as they slid the book back in its place, and her thoughts and following words fumbled just as badly.

"What happened last night…" she started when she'd faced him again. "I'm sorry I ran away like I did. I didn't mean… I was just — I was afraid..."

"Oh. I — I understand," he said, taking a step back, his brow slightly furrowed. "You probably… What I am must—"

"No, it wasn't because of that," she said, automatically reaching out a hand to touch his arm reassuringly, but she withdrew it quickly, fearing that any physical contact with him would destroy what little resolve she had left. "It — it had nothing to do with that. I was afraid of — of what the kiss meant."

Hermione bit her lip as Remus gazed at her questioningly. She wasn't sure what to say or do next. Everything she'd rehearsed in her mind earlier was completely useless now.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship," she told him finally. She feared what would happen if the older Remus ever found out about their kiss last night. How would he react? Would he be embarrassed that his younger self had had feelings for her? Would he, being the reserved and proper man that he was, be ashamed he'd kissed her, his much younger student? Would he be upset with her for not preventing it?

"Neither do I," the teenage Remus said.

Hermione searched his eyes. She knew if she told him that she only wanted to be friends he would accept it. He wouldn't try to be anything more than that again. Is that what she wanted? No, but it was what she knew she should do.

There was a small part of her, however, that felt she was wrong about this. It was telling her she would regret never exploring what could be between her and Remus, of never discovering where this could lead.

 _No regrets._

Remus's words from the previous night came to Hermione's mind: _We should do what we feel is right with the time we are given_. She was given the chance to go back in time. She was given this time, here with the teenage Remus, and Dumbledore said it could be to learn something important. Last night Remus had revealed his feelings for her. Was that what she was meant to learn? If the younger Remus had feelings for her, did that mean the Remus she knew in her time could have them too?

"I don't want what I said last night, I don't want what happened to mess things up between us," Remus continued.

What happened was that he'd kissed her and it'd felt perfect. She'd only fled afterwards because she'd let her fears and uncertainty get the best of her. She'd let her ever dominant mind with its irksome thoughts get in the way of what her heart was clearly telling her.

"It hasn't," Hermione said.

She knew the ramifications of her next words could be great and disastrous, but she had to do what she felt was right. That way she could live with whatever came next. Whether it be unbelievable happiness or unimaginable heartache that awaited her, she didn't know. What she did know was that she had very strong feelings for the person standing before her.

So she told him once more, "I really like you too, Remus."

For a moment he only stared at her, his sage colored eyes still anxious. But then, slowly, a smile crossed his lips, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to feel those lips upon hers again. Remus fulfilled her unspoken wish not a second later. He pulled her into an eager kiss and her heart rejoiced and glowed with pleasure. It felt, if possible, even more amazing than it had the first time.

"Studying, eh?"

Hermione and Remus hastily broke apart to see Sirius grinning at the pair of them.

"If I had known this is what studying meant, I'd have joined you. Well, joined _you_ ," Sirius indicated Hermione, then pulled a face as he said to Remus, "Not so much you."

"What are you doing here?" Remus asked.

"Spying, of course," Sirius told his friend. "I knew something was up with you, the state you've been in since detention last night. Then Lily said Jean was missing breakfast to study and you claim you had to do the same. I figured something was going on and decided to check up on you. And I catch you _studying."_ Sirius appeared utterly amused. "Studying in the middle of the library, of all places."

"Stop saying 'studying' like that, will you?" Hermione said, and Sirius laughed.

"So, I assume this means you're officially together now, right?" he asked them. "Because it's about time. The others and I were getting worried that the two of you might never admit your feelings for each other. I suppose I'd better go tell everyone the good news. You two carry on with your studies. Forget I was ever here."

Sirius winked at Hermione and clapped Remus on the back before leaving them alone again. Remus turned to Hermione.

"So…are we officially together?" he asked.

Hermione felt a flutter of joy in her chest. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"I am."

There was no turning back now. In response to his question, she happily pressed her lips to his.

When she pulled away again, Remus asked her, his eyes twinkling, "Was that a yes?"

Hermione smiled.

* * *

Through his half-moon glasses, Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes examined Hermione's faintly flushed and nervous face as she sat down across from him. Then, clasping his hands together over his desk, he asked, "To what do I owe this pleasant surprise, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I — I wanted to speak to you about something that's happened. Something I've done."

Hermione paused, unsure how to proceed. Dumbledore waited patiently for her to go on.

"Sir," she began at last, "when I first I arrived here and asked you for help, you told me that while I was here I didn't necessarily have to avoid the people I know from my time in the future, and we came up with a plan to protect the future from being altered due to my presence in this time. May we go over that again, please?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger. The most crucial part of the plan involves Obliviating the memories of all those you know from the future. You have already given me a sealed envelope containing a list of these students and professors, and as soon as we succeed in returning you to your time, I will take care of removing you from their memories."

So the Remus in her time would never know that she had travelled to the past and that his younger self had befriended her. He would never know that they'd become romantically involved…

"Furthermore," Dumbledore continued, "we agreed you would go by an alias while you are here. This will make it more difficult for the rest of your classmates and professors to connect 'Jean Wilkins' to 'Hermione Granger' in the future should you ever meet again."

Hermione nodded, still thinking of the older Remus.

"Miss Granger, you said you wanted to talk to me about something you've done," Dumbledore reminded her.

"Yes, sir." And she proceeded to tell him about her quandary, but as a precaution she spoke only vaguely. "Something happened yesterday between me and a person I'm friends with in the future. Then some things were said between us this morning, and I — I had to make a decision. I'm not sure if this person would approve of the choice I made. In my time, I mean."

"In your time this person will not remember the choice you made," Dumbledore told her. "It would be as if you never made it."

"But _I'll_ remember it. I'll know what I did."

"Do you feel as though you have made the right choice?"

"Yes, but I also feel guilty. I wish I could tell this person the truth about the situation, to see if he would approve."

"You mustn't tell anyone of your time travel or the future, Miss Granger. Remember, you have already given me your word that you would not do so, when you first arrived here."

"I remember, sir, but I thought…maybe…since his memory is going to be Obliviated anyway—"

"I am afraid that would be unwise. Obliviating the memories of those you know from the future can only do so much to protect the future you know from being altered."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

Dumbledore pressed his steepled fingers to his lips, looking thoughtful for a few moments, before explaining.

"Imagine for a moment a man who was, as a toddler, bitten by his pet rabbit. As an adult this person may not remember the incident and may have never been told by his parents that the incident ever occurred, but that does not change the reality that he _was_ bitten by the rabbit. It does not change the fact that he has the scar on his hand to mark the event as well as a fear of bunnies he cannot quite explain.

"Similarly," Dumbledore went on, "Obliviating a person's memory does not necessarily erase the impact that those removed memories had on him. Certain experiences, certain bits of knowledge gained, can have a profound and intricate impact on us. They can mark us and shape us in ways that may be subtle and difficult to see, yet that nonetheless affect who we are and the choices we make. To tell someone information as significant as what the future will bring him may mark him and have unknowable consequences, and I must ask you not to further heighten the risk of your presence here in that manner."

"I understand, Professor. I won't," Hermione promised reluctantly, and she wondered with unease if her relationship with Remus here would mark him somehow. And if it did, how would it affect him? "Sir, what if the choice I made is one my friend wouldn't agree with and it marks him in some way?"

Dumbledore surveyed her worried expression. "Tell me, Miss Granger, did your friend approve of your decision now, in this time?"

"Yes, but, well, this situation, the time travel — it's made things very complicated."

"Then let us consider the crux of the matter. If in the future you were presented with the same decision to make of which you speak now, would you make the same choice?"

"Yes," Hermione answered almost at once. She knew that if the Remus in her time were to confess he had feelings for her, and if he were to ask her, she would be his in a heartbeat. She wouldn't care about anything else.

"Time can make situations complicated, indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "However, perhaps the choice you have made now you would always make, regardless of the time or circumstance, because of who you are at the most fundamental level. The same goes for your friend, who presently chose to approve of your decision."

Dumbledore's words reflected in a way some of the jumbled thoughts she'd had on the Astronomy Tower the night before, and Hermione asked him curiously, "Do you believe in fate, sir?"

"I do not discount the theory," Dumbledore answered rather ambiguously. "Do you believe it is fate for you to have been sent back in time?"

"I don't discount the possibility," she replied.

Dumbledore smiled. "The reason — _if_ there is a reason — for you being here has been unclear to us thus far. Have you learned anything you believe to be of significance?"

"I might have," Hermione said, but didn't expand on her thoughts.

"Has it given you any indication as to how you were sent back in time?"

She shook her head. "Sir, has there been word about the Time-Turner request?"

"I will be meeting with the Ministry again later this week and will inform you as soon I know anything."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione left Dumbledore's office, somewhat reassured. The Remus in her time would never know that his younger self had become romantically involved with her, and though she didn't know for sure what his reaction to it would be if he were to find out, she knew the teenage version of him approved of what was going on and that meant something. Remus was the one who had instigated this — he had feelings for her too — and she felt like she was doing what was right.

That feeling was further confirmed when she met Remus waiting for her in the corridor. He beamed at her as she walked his way and Hermione, her heart leaping at the sight of him, brightly returned his smile. Then, hand and hand, they walked together along the passageway.

* * *

 **A/N:** Loved reading your reactions to the last chapter, and I'm curious to know what you make of this.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione couldn't remember a time she'd ever been happier. The last several days with Remus had been nothing short of wonderful. Although they'd spent a lot of time together as friends over the past couple of months, the dynamic between them had changed since they'd revealed their feelings for each other. The energy between them felt different now and it seemed to spark every time their hands joined or their lips met.

Hermione really liked kissing Remus…

It was the last day of classes before Christmas break when they had the snowball fight. Hermione and Remus were out on the snowy grounds with their friends, jovially making snow angels and building snowmen that danced with a flick of a wand. James was decorating Lily's creation with his own glasses when somebody (no one saw who, but many suspected Sirius) surprised him with a snowball to the back of his head. A merry melee ensued.

Snow was flying everywhere, either hitting the mark with a slushy thud or being dodged in often times entertaining ways. Kirsten displayed her previously undiscovered dance skills when she avoided a snowball by performing a perfect pirouette. Peter evaded Lily's shot by clumsily falling face first onto the ground as he tried to get James. Then, when Sirius fired a snowball at Marcia that caused her to topple over and crush the snowman she'd so proudly built, a war was waged between the girls and boys.

At some point, Hermione and Remus separated from the group and began a private battle of their own. Near the frozen Great Lake, they each hid behind a snow-covered tree, a snowball ready in their hand, and playfully tried to bait each other out into the open. Remus pitched a snowball in Hermione's vicinity in an attempt to draw her away from her tree, but unfortunately, he did so just as she suddenly stepped away from her cover. His shot accidentally hit her hard in the stomach, and as she fell back she reflexively flung her own snowball and caught Remus, who was rushing forward with an apology, square in the jaw.

Hermione quickly apologized too, but Remus grinned. He proffered his hand to her figure sitting in the snow. "Truce?"

Hermione took his hand with a smile. "Truce."

Remus pulled her to her feet and then she was in his arms. His embrace sheltered her from the icy breeze and his lips felt surprisingly warm against her own. He was like a haven of heat in the snowy wonderland, and Hermione thought vaguely of the pleasant warmth of bluebell flames. She had no desire to move away from this fire kindling between them but was forced to break apart from their kiss when a barrage of snowballs hit them.

"Traitors!" Marcia screamed, and a second onslaught of snowballs tore through the air at them.

Hermione and Remus swiftly launched a counterattack, stooping low and rapidly scooping up handfuls of snow to send at their friends and adversaries. Although they were outnumbered, it didn't matter for long. Soon the fight became a free-for-all.

When the gang finally returned to the castle, everyone was exhausted and wet from the snow. They made their way to Gryffindor tower and settled themselves by the fireplace to warm up and dry off. They remained there for the rest of the evening, laughing and chatting and enjoying one another's company. This was the last night they would all be together before everybody went home for the holidays. Everybody but Hermione and Remus. Hermione didn't have a home to go to in this time, and Remus, upon hearing that she would be staying alone at the castle, decided to spend his Christmas break there as well. She was grateful. She couldn't imagine having to spend this time of the year without any of her family or friends.

"Smile, Jean," Lily said, and Hermione turned from her conversation with Remus to see the Head Girl had procured a camera and was focusing it on her.

"Oh no, please don't — I hate having my picture taken," Hermione told Lily hurriedly, putting her hand up to obscure her face from the view of the lens. She knew a photograph of her in this time would be hard evidence of her time travel and she should avoid that danger at all costs.

"Fine," Lily said, respecting her friend's wishes and lowering the camera.

It wasn't until later that night, however, after Remus and James had walked them to the Head Girl's dormitory, that Hermione learned Lily had already taken a picture of her prior to her realization of the camera's presence.

"Here," Lily said, holding out a photograph for her. "Look at this."

"It's not of me, is it?" Hermione asked warily. "You know I don't like—"

"Just look at it."

Hermione took the photograph. It showed her and Remus sitting together by the fire. Their attention was initially directed at someone out of the frame, but when their hands subtly met in the space between them, their gazes found each other as well. A tender look passed between them.

"When did you take this?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"When you were too distracted to notice, obviously."

Hermione continued watching the moving photograph for several more seconds, entranced by the moment Lily had captured between her and Remus. The way they were looking at each other… she blushed.

Lily smiled at her. "You two look like you're in love."

Indeed, they did.

* * *

After breakfast the next morning, Hermione and Remus stood outside the front doors of the castle, bidding farewell to their friends who were leaving for home.

Sirius was chuckling as he said goodbye to Remus, and Hermione overheard him tell her boyfriend in an undertone, "Behave yourself, Moony."

"Have a happy Christmas," Lily said brightly, hugging Hermione and Remus in turn. Then the redhead joined hands with James and set off with him and the others.

As their friends and other schoolmates trudged through the snow toward the school gates, Hermione and Remus reentered the castle. Peeves was gliding around the entrance hall, gleefully singing a naughty rendition of a classic Christmas carol, when he spotted the pair. The poltergeist leered at them and pointed at something over their heads. Fearing Dungbombs or something equally unpleasant, they looked up to see mistletoe hanging above them.

"Kissy kissy, Moony and Frizzy!" Peeves sang, and Hermione self-consciously put a hand up to her hair.

"It looks fine," Remus assured her, a smile playing on his lips. Gently taking a lock of her hair between his fingers and twirling it, he said, "I like your hair."

"Kisssssyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Peeves squealed as he swooped down towards them. He circled around the couple, making loud kissing noises, but Hermione ignored him and turned back to Remus.

"Why didn't you kiss me the first time we were under the mistletoe?" she asked him curiously.

"Well, we weren't actually _beneath_ the mistletoe," Remus replied, which was certainly true and a fair enough answer.

"What about during that Truth or Dare game? You said you've liked me for a while now. Why didn't you kiss me then?"

She'd always wondered about this. If he had liked her, then why hadn't he taken advantage of that moment which Sirius had called a perfectly good snogging opportunity?

"You looked very nervous," Remus said. "Did you want me to?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't you?" But he shook his head slightly, and Hermione, a bit hurt and surprised, said, "Oh. I just thought—"

"I did want to kiss you," Remus told her, "but I didn't want it to happen during a game like that. If I were going to kiss you, I wanted you to know it was because I really wanted to, because I liked you. Not because it was a dare."

"Oh," Hermione said again, this time content with his explanation.

"But if I'd known you wanted me to, I definitely would have."

"Well…" she said coyly, glancing up at the mistletoe.

Remus smiled and then his lips were on hers.

"Looky looky, Dumby! Moony and Frizzy are kissy kissy! Ha ha ha!" Peeves chortled.

Hermione hastily pulled away from Remus to see Dumbledore had just come out of the Great Hall. His brows raised fractionally when his eyes met hers and she felt her face go pink. What would he think of this? What would Dumbledore make of her kissing someone from twenty years before her time?

"Good morning, Mr. Lupin, Miss Wilkins," the Headmaster greeted pleasantly.

"Good morning, Professor," Hermione and Remus said in unison.

Then, without another word, Dumbledore went on his way up the marble staircase, Peeves whooshing away after him.

Seeming to sense her nervousness, Remus asked, "What's wrong?"

Before Hermione could answer, though, she saw something else that made her feel considerably more uneasy. One of the Slytherin boys who'd attacked her, the one who inexplicably reminded her of Bellatrix Lestrange, had just walked out of the Great Hall. Remus followed her gaze. Upon seeing the Slytherin, he made a sudden movement, as if going for his wand, but there was no need to draw it. The Slytherin just scowled at them before continuing on his way to the dungeons. Unfortunately, it appeared he would be one of the few staying at Hogwarts for the holidays as well.

Hermione did her best not to worry about the Slytherin, and for the rest of the day she successfully managed to keep him out of her mind. That night, however, she had no control over the matter. Her dream began beautifully but quickly turned into a nightmare. She and Remus were chasing each other, laughing, across a snowy courtyard, heading toward a torch of bluebell flames in the distance. But just as they were about to reach it, the Slytherin boy appeared out of nowhere. He blocked their path, and Hermione stumbled and fell to the ground. The scene dissolved around her, rearranging so that the snow beneath her turned to ash and the bluebell flames flickered into an orange red fire surging in a familiar ornate marble fireplace.

With terrible dread, Hermione realized she'd fallen onto the drawing room floor of Malfoy Manor. Remus had disappeared along with the snowy courtyard and she was alone, powerless, before the Slytherin, completely at his mercy. He pointed his wand at her, tilting his head slightly, and Hermione watched, horrified, as he morphed grotesquely into Bellatrix Lestrange. Her dark hair hanging over her face and her black eyes alive with sadistic pleasure, the Death Eater cried out in a jarring voice, "Crucio!" and Hermione was seized by pain so intense, so excruciating, she wished for death rather than to endure any more of this torture…

Hermione awoke, screaming and struggling to free herself from the bonds, from the grasp of the Death Eaters. Then she realized that she was only fighting with her blanket. It had just been a terrible dream. There was no Bellatrix. She was alone in her dorm at Hogwarts, perfectly safe. Still, it took her a long time to get back to sleep.

She wasn't the only one having trouble with sleep that night.

In the Gryffindor common room the next afternoon, Hermione looked up from her book to study Remus who was sitting beside her at a table, quietly composing a letter to his father. He had been rather quiet all day. She waited for him to break from his writing before asking him if there was anything wrong.

"I didn't sleep very well last night," he told her. "I'm a bit tired." He paused before adding, "You look tired too."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically.

"You look lovely as always, of course," Remus quickly amended, and the corners of Hermione's mouth twitched up. "But also tired."

"I didn't sleep very well, either."

Remus examined her more closely and concern crossed his features. "Was it because of that Slytherin boy?"

"Sort of. He made an appearance in a dream I was having. A nightmare, actually," she said, faintly embarrassed acknowledging that she'd had a bad dream, that something about that Slytherin made her feel afraid. "It's silly that he was in it at all. He didn't even hurt me that day I helped Alex, but I was scared anyway because…"

"Because you've been attacked before," Remus said shrewdly, and Hermione nodded.

She had never really talked about the incident with Harry or Ginny or anybody else before. There had been too many important things to focus on after the escape from Malfoy Manor, so she'd suppressed what had happened as well as she could and concentrated on the greater, more vital task of destroying Voldemort. Then, after he was gone, after the Battle of Hogwarts, none of her friends spoke explicitly about anything that had happened. Everyone had been scarred by the Second Wizarding War and was in the process of healing. She and her friends had a tacit understanding to be there for one another but not pry into each other's darkest moments.

But right now with Remus, she wanted to speak. So she told him softly, "It happened a few months ago. The witch who attacked me — she was powerful. And cruel. She used the Cruciatus Curse on me, over and over again. It was…" Hermione shook her head, unable to find the words to describe the unbearable pain and accompanying terror. "I didn't think it would ever end, but I wanted desperately for it all to be over, even if that meant not surviving. I just wanted it to end."

Remus took her hand in both of his own, his expression solemn.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said quietly. "I know what it's like to be attacked… I was very young the night I was infected, the night I became a werewolf."

With a shock, Hermione made the connection just then that the werewolf who had bitten Remus was the same werewolf who had captured her and her friends and taken them to Malfoy Manor, the same notoriously savage werewolf to whom Bellatrix had offered her as a treat after she'd had her fill of torturing her — Fenrir Greyback.

"I don't remember everything that happened," Remus continued, "but I remember the fear and the pain and the blood. And the smell — the reek of his filthy fur."

Hermione squeezed his hand. She hated to think of Remus, who must have been a sweet young boy, being attacked so viciously. He had been forever changed that night, forever affected with lycanthropy, and he would always have to deal with the damaging physical and emotional effects.

"Did you have nightmares about it too?" she asked.

"Yeah. A lot when I was younger. But it gets better."

For a while, they sat there quietly, Remus gazing down at his and Hermione's caressing hands, unseeingly, apparently absorbed in the memories of his nightmares and of Greyback.

Or so Hermione thought until he asked her, "Did that witch attack you because you're Muggle-born?"

"What?" she said, completely caught off guard by his question. He was supposed to think she was half-blood.

"I heard the Slytherin call you 'Mudblood' when he attacked you," Remus said, watching her closely. "And Alex said you told him you were Muggle-born and proud of it."

Hermione was silent, her mouth suddenly dry. Her words to Alex had totally blown the background story Dumbledore had conceived for her when she'd first arrived to this time.

"Are you Muggle-born?" Remus asked her again, directly this time.

Should she try to deny it? Somehow she thought he wouldn't buy the lie. So, feeling like there was really no other option, she responded to his question with a timid, "Yes."

Remus stared at her, frowning slightly.

"So your father doesn't really work for the Ministry of Magic?" he asked.

"Um, no," Hermione admitted uncomfortably. "My parents are both dentists, actually."

Remus lowered his gaze to their hands again and Hermione watched him nervously, trying to gauge how upset he was with her for her dishonesty. But he was a person who possessed great self-composure, making him very difficult to read sometimes.

Her nerves unable to take the silence stretching between them, Hermione asked him, "Aren't you going to ask me why I didn't tell you?"

"If I did," he said slowly, looking up at her, "would you tell me the whole truth?"

Something in the way he said this gave Hermione the impression that he wasn't only referring to her being Muggle-born. She didn't know how to respond.

"W-what do you mean?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, appearing to have regretted his question. "Forget I asked."

He released her hand and turned back to his letter, and Hermione bit her lip as she tried to figure out what to say to him. She knew she couldn't tell him the whole truth, but she had to explain herself to him somehow.

"Remus," she said after a while, "I'm sorry I lied about my father and said I was half-blood. When I first arrived here, I just thought it would be better — safer — to make people think that."

"I understand," he said, slowly putting down his quill to face her once more. "You wouldn't want to be harassed or attacked again for being Muggle-born. I get that. I just… I can't help but wonder if there's anything else you haven't been honest about. Sometimes I get this strange feeling when we're together. I can't explain it, but I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

"You — you think I'm hiding something from you?"

"Are you?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

Hermione knew Remus was a very perceptive person, and she feared now that he'd been able to read in her eyes the guilt she'd felt whenever she'd had to lie to him about something from her past in order to maintain Dumbledore's story. Could he have also read the guilt she sometimes felt about dating him without the knowledge of the Remus she knew in the future? Could he read her guilt now?

With a touch of defensiveness, Hermione said, "I didn't realize you were so — so _suspicious_ of me."

"I'm not suspicious," Remus told her steadily. "I'm curious. There are some things about you that are — well, a bit mysterious."

"Like what?" she asked, staggered that he found her so suspect.

"Like the way you claim to have been transported to this school by Portkey even though you were asleep and empty-handed when you first arrived here, and we both know a Portkey couldn't have really transported you directly into Hogwarts even if you'd had one in your possession. And your appointments with Dumbledore are unusual. He doesn't meet with students very often unless they're in trouble, and I know you've met with him at least three times in the short time you've been here. And the Marauder's Map says…"

Remus trailed off, frowning again, while Hermione's heart nearly stopped.

"The Marauder's Map?" she repeated anxiously, knowing what it must have revealed to him. How could she have not foreseen this danger?

"That's the map you and Lily used to follow James the night of the last full moon," he explained to her needlessly. "It tracks the movements of everybody in Hogwarts, and when I was checking it last night I — I noticed something strange."

Remus paused, looking puzzled, and Hermione struggled not to reveal her panic under his watchful gaze.

"I knew you were in the Head Girl's dormitory," he continued, "because I'd just walked you and seen you go inside. But the only dot in your dorm that the map showed, the dot that should have represented you and been labeled with your name, was labeled 'Hermione Granger' instead."

He gave her a questioning look and Hermione swallowed.

"That certainly is strange," she agreed. Then, thinking fast and hoping her voice wouldn't betray her by trembling, she said, "I don't know why the map would mislabel me like that. Maybe — maybe it's malfunctioning and mixed up my name with somebody else's."

"Right," said Remus. "The map must be wrong."

Hermione remembered Remus saying in her third year, in regard to Peter Pettigrew's name showing up on the map when he was thought by everyone to be dead, that the Marauder's Map never lied. She strongly doubted that he believed it was mistaken now.

The pair contemplated each other in silence for several seconds, Hermione apprehensive and Remus uncertain, until the Marauder spoke again.

"Jean, if there is something you're not telling me… I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. You can talk to me about anything."

Should she tell him? But Dumbledore had insisted she shouldn't. He'd made her promise not to because it would be too dangerous for him to know the truth…

"But I also understand," Remus went on, "if you don't want to tell me."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, Remus — I _can't_ ," Hermione said before she could stop herself. Then, her voice rising in pitch, she quickly added, "Because — because there's nothing to tell."

Her last statement sounded false even to her own ears, but after a few tense moments Remus simply nodded and said, "Okay."

He picked up his letter and got to his feet, and Hermione stood up as well.

"Remus…" she began, but she broke off, not knowing what to say next.

As she struggled to find words, Remus told her, "I'm going to the Owlery to send this letter. I won't be long."

Hermione didn't want him to leave, but she didn't know what to say to him, what to do. So she only nodded. "Okay."

Remus hesitated for a moment, then softly kissed her cheek and turned away. Feeling uneasy, Hermione watched him walk out of the common room.


	15. Chapter 15

When Remus returned to the common room, neither he nor Hermione were keen to revisit the conversation they'd been having before he'd left for the Owlery. Still, the anxious Hermione apologized to Remus again for her dishonesty, and he repeated to her that he understood the reason she'd lied about her blood status and didn't hold it against her. He closed their brief talk on the subject by assuring her that everything was fine between them. As the evening progressed, Hermione began to believe him.

The next day, however, she realized Remus's words had been empty.

The pair met outside Hermione's dorm that morning and greeted each other with a kiss like they normally did. But Remus pulled away from their kiss — from her — rather abruptly. Then, afterwards, he didn't take her hand like he usually did. Hermione knew in that moment that everything was definitely _not_ fine between them, and as the morning wore on it only became clearer Remus was upset with her. He didn't exactly say anything that directly indicated he was upset, nor did he behave in a manner which would obviously suggest so, but she distinctly felt an undercurrent of tension in their interactions that could only be explained by the revelation of her dishonesty the night before and his doubts about her because of the Marauder's Map.

It was lunchtime when two younger Gryffindor boys approached Remus for assistance with a prank they were pulling on a couple of Ravenclaws.

"Do you mind if I go help them?" Remus asked her.

"Not at all," Hermione said, not altogether truthfully. "This will give me time to finish making your Christmas gift."

"Great. I'll meet you as soon as we're done."

Without giving her a kiss goodbye, Remus went off with the other Gryffindors and left Hermione with the unshakable impression that he was relieved to part from her.

Hermione indeed spent most of the afternoon finishing up the Christmas gifts she was knitting for her friends and also trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this mess she found herself in. How was she going to fix things with Remus? She knew they had to talk again, but she still didn't know what she should tell him. She didn't want to lie to him anymore, yet she feared telling him the truth, not only because Dumbledore had said it would be dangerous but because she was also afraid of Remus's reaction. How would he feel if he found out he was dating his much younger student from the future?

Hermione gave up knitting when evening came. On her way to the library for a distraction from her thoughts, she ran into the two boys Remus was helping. They were in high spirits and greeted her enthusiastically.

"You should have seen the faces on those Ravenclaws! Remus is a genius," said the fair-haired Gryffindor. Then, "Ha, that rhymed!"

"Um, where _is_ Remus?" Hermione asked.

"He's supposed to be with you, isn't he?" the darker-haired boy said to her. "He left us to go meet up with you about an hour ago."

Hermione tried not to make a big deal out of the fact that Remus hadn't come to find her as soon as he'd finished helping the Gryffindors like he'd told her he would. It didn't necessarily mean anything. It didn't necessarily mean he was avoiding her. Except he kind of _was_ avoiding her.

She wandered down the corridor, lost in her thoughts, until Nearly Headless Nick came floating towards her in a huff.

"I wouldn't go anywhere near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom if I were you," the ghost warned Hermione.

"Why not?"

"Apparently, that Lupin boy is meditating and does not wish to be disturbed."

"Meditating?"

"Yes, and it _clearly_ is not working for him. He didn't seem very calm when he shot a spell at my chest that would have — if I were corporeal — expelled me from the room with unnecessary roughness," Nearly Headless Nick relayed to her indignantly.

"That doesn't sound like him," Hermione said, taken aback.

"Oh no, he's supposed to be a nice young man, isn't he? Well, I'm not so sure."

The ghost went on his way, muttering to himself about the living's lack of respect for the dead.

Wondering what was going on with Remus, Hermione quickly headed to the D.A.D.A. classroom. Inside, she found him sitting atop the teacher's desk.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, hopping off the desk as she entered the room. His tone of voice suggested her unexpected presence was not entirely welcome.

"Looking for you," Hermione replied. She glanced around. What was he doing in here all alone? Had he really been meditating? He'd never mentioned to her before that he practiced meditation.

"I was just about to go look for you," Remus told her.

Hermione's eyes settled on his. _Oh really?_

"How was the prank?" she asked.

"Successful," he answered succinctly. Then, edging past her toward the door, "Do you want to go down to dinner?"

"It's a bit early for dinner, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is."

They regarded each other awkwardly for a few moments, a strange, slightly strained silence growing between them, before Hermione decided she needed to overcome her unease and explain herself to Remus once and for all.

"Actually, Remus, I was hoping we could talk."

"What about?"

"About us. About our conversation yesterday. I understand you're upset with me, and you have every right to be, but—"

"I'm not upset with you," Remus interrupted.

"You — you're not?" she said, bemused by his contradiction.

"No. I told you yesterday everything was fine."

Hermione contemplated him uncertainly. Did he mean what he said? Then why did she feel as though something was amiss? Was her guilty conscience making her imagine something was wrong when everything was truly fine?

"But I feel like there's been some tension between us today," she said tentatively. "I've been getting this vibe that you — well, that you don't really want to be around me."

Remus averted his gaze and turned away from her, slowly stepping back toward the teacher's desk. Hermione took this as confirmation.

"So, I wasn't imagining it, then, was I?"

"It's not that I don't want to be around you," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I… I just need some space."

"I understand," said Hermione softly. "I probably would too if I were you. I'd find it hard to trust me, and I'd want to think things through."

"I trust you completely, Jean," Remus said, turning toward her again.

"How can you trust me? You think I'm hiding something from you."

"I do think you're hiding something. But I also realize if you are, it must be for a good reason."

Knowing that she was unlikely to get a better opening than this to confess to him the truth, Hermione mustered all the courage she had and said, "There is a good reason."

She paused, biting her lip under his inquiring gaze, then took a deep breath.

"You're right, Remus. There is something I've been keeping from you. I wanted to tell you when we first got together, but I didn't know whether I should. I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't."

"Dumbledore?"

Hermione nodded. "He thought it best if I didn't tell anyone. He said — he said it was dangerous."

"If Dumbledore said that," Remus said slowly, thoughtfully, a faint crease between his brows, "then maybe you shouldn't tell me, Jean. If he thinks it's best that way, it must mean it is."

"But I want to tell you, Remus. I have to. I need to make sure things are okay between us."

"Things _are_ okay between us."

"They're not. You're upset with me."

And he didn't even know the whole truth yet.

"I'm not upset. I told you everything is fine." Looking concerned by the lingering doubts she thought must be clear in her eyes, he stepped closer to her. "Everything is good between us."

He reached out his hand and gently brushed her hair away from her face, caressing her cheek as he did so. Hermione leaned into his palm, the light touch comforting her as much as his words. She realized they hadn't had much physical contact since the kiss he'd cut short that morning.

"More than good," Remus continued. "Being with you has been incredible, Jean. These last two weeks have been the best of my life."

Hermione's heart swelled at his sentiment and she impulsively pressed her lips to his. She thought she felt Remus tense up at the contact, but then he was kissing her back and everything felt right again. Everything felt perfect. The last couple of weeks had been the best of her life, too. She pulled away from him slightly to tell him this but he pulled her right back to him, reengaging her in their kiss before she could speak. She didn't resist. After a day plagued by uncertainty, she relished in the feel of his lips on hers, of his reassuring embrace.

Lost in the wonderful feeling, Hermione failed to notice right away that something had subtly, almost imperceptibly shifted in Remus…

She sensed it subconsciously first, in the way his kiss changed, slowly, then suddenly, becoming more and more assertive. Demanding. She then became acutely aware of the sensation created by his uncharacteristically wandering touch. His hands traveled leisurely over her figure before sliding down to her hips, gripping her—

Abruptly, Remus backed her up against the teacher's desk. The rough, startling movement and subsequent collision threw off her equilibrium in more ways than one. But before Hermione could regain her balance, he swiftly lifted her onto the table's edge, settling himself between her legs as she sat facing him. Her pulse quickened, whether from anticipation or alarm she wasn't sure, but she didn't move away from the rather intimate position nor did she break away from their passionate kiss. She was too stunned by her boyfriend's unexpected, bold move and by the feelings beginning to stir inside her.

So caught up was Hermione that she found herself, several moments later, lying with Remus on top of the desk without knowing exactly when or how it had happened. She struggled to keep up with his demanding kiss. It was harder now, hungrier, and his hand was roaming eagerly over her figure, seeking and finding her bare skin, his unreserved touch setting her alight.

But this fire — this wasn't like the fire of the bluebell flames. This was different. _He_ was different. This didn't feel like Remus. He was moving much too quickly. His touch was too insistent, his kiss too greedy. He bit her bottom lip with none of his usual gentleness and apprehension filled Hermione.

" _Remus!_ " she cried the next moment, clutching his fingers painfully tight to keep him from unbuttoning her jeans.

He pulled away from her then, and looking up into his lustful gaze, Hermione detected a disconcerting foreign quality in her boyfriend's eyes. The parting words Sirius had given him came to her mind: _Behave yourself, Moony_.

"Remus?"

The shadow of the wolf slowly disappeared from his face. When only Remus remained, he jumped off the desk and backed away from her in a hurry, his eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, Jean," he said, looking utterly shocked by the position he'd just found himself in. "I — I need to get some air."

He departed from the room before Hermione could say a word. She was left there sitting on the desk, feeling completely bewildered and oddly flustered.

 _What just happened?_

Remus had never kissed her that way or tried anything like that on her before. He had always been, what her mother would call, a perfect gentleman.

But she had just caught a glimpse of the wolf residing within him. Finally, it dawned on Hermione what might have been going on that day.

After she'd straightened out her ruffled hair and clothing and sufficiently regained her composure, she went after Remus. He'd said he needed some air which meant he'd probably gone either to the Astronomy Tower or out to the school grounds. The castle's entrance was closer, so she checked there first.

As soon as she passed through the front doors of the castle, she spotted Remus sitting on the snowy stone steps outside. His back was to her, but she knew he'd sensed her presence by the way he visibly tensed as she approached.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said quietly, glancing at her a bit warily as she sat down next to him.

"You didn't scare me," Hermione said. "You just… you didn't really seem like you."

"I wasn't." He sounded troubled. "I didn't think I'd… but I knew something was different as soon as we met this morning, when I caught your scent…"

"My scent?"

A memory from the last full moon flashed through Hermione's mind. They'd been trapped beneath the Whomping Willow by the werewolf form of Remus, and James had said: _Your scent is making him crazy…_

"Yeah." Avoiding her gaze, Remus continued reluctantly. "When the full moon gets near… well, it affects me in some ways. I…"

Hermione remembered reading all about werewolves in her third year. She knew that in the week leading up to the full moon, the wolf part of their nature grew stronger and they were fiercely influenced by some of their more animalistic traits and instincts. Their senses heightened as well as their craving for rare meat, and they experienced a marked increase in aggression and sex drive. Hermione remembered blushing about it then, thinking of her professor's libido, and she blushed about it now.

"You don't have to explain," she told him, averting her gaze from him as well. "I've read about it before."

She should have realized what was going on sooner. She'd been so preoccupied with her own feelings, with the guilt of keeping a huge secret from Remus, that it hadn't even occurred to her that the tension she'd been feeling between them might stem from his struggle with his…wolfish urges. She understood now, and very self-consciously so, that her scent and touch triggered them. That was why Remus had pulled away from their kiss that morning and avoided physical contact with her for the rest of the day. That was why he'd wanted space.

"It's never affected me like this before, not so strongly," Remus told her after a short silence. "Dumbledore's taught me practices that help me to keep my mind and not lose myself to the werewolf part of me."

"Like meditation?"

"Yeah. It's not so effective on the night of the full moon, obviously, but it works well on the days approaching it. I — I think your scent affects me differently, though, more intensely than anybody else's, because I've never lost control before. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"It's okay, Remus. I know you weren't yourself. Please, don't worry about it."

The truth was that Hermione was less troubled by her boyfriend's wolfish impulses and more worried about her own actions in the DADA classroom. She knew she should have put a stop to Remus much sooner than she had, but she hadn't, because she was thinking things, feeling things, she knew she shouldn't be considering the complicated nature of their relationship given the time travel situation.

Seeking a distraction for them both, she said, "Um, why don't we go to dinner now?"

Remus nodded and the pair rather awkwardly made their way to the Great Hall.

* * *

An incident like the one that had occurred in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom did not take place again in the succeeding days. Remus seemed to have mastered better control over his wolfish instincts, but Hermione was still grateful it was the full moon tonight because the next time she saw Remus, after he recovered from his transformation and was discharged from the Hospital Wing, they wouldn't have to comport themselves so cautiously.

Unfortunately, though, today was Christmas and they would have to spend it apart.

Hermione awoke that morning to a stack of presents at the foot of her bed. She opened the gifts from her friends, which included books, make-up, and sweets, until the only package left was the one from Remus. She tore the wrapping off the small parcel, uncovering a small black box. Inside was a beautiful, sterling silver necklace. She lifted it by its delicate chain and ran her thumb across the words engraved on the heart pendant: _Be Silently Drawn._

Also from Remus was a short note with his familiar, neat handwriting:

 _Meet me in front of the library after breakfast on Tuesday.  
_ _A surprise awaits you_.  
 _P.S. Dress warmly._

So, after having fun speculating what the surprise could be, Hermione made her way to the library on Tuesday morning to find Remus already there waiting for her. He was wearing the black cap and scarf she'd knitted for him, and he smiled when he spotted the necklace he'd given her, the silver heart resting against her own. Playfully, Hermione grabbed the ends of the scarf so temptingly draped around her boyfriend's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

"Thank you, Remus. I love it," she said, using the scarf to hold him close to her.

"And I'm loving your gift even more now," he replied.

Hermione gave him another kiss before releasing him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, noting the shadows under his eyes. This month's transformation must have been more difficult than usual without his friends there to accompany him.

"Better now. In some ways it's worse before the transformation. Afterwards, the relief that it's over outweighs everything else."

"I'm glad you're okay," she said quietly. Then, in a lighter tone, she asked him, "So, what's the surprise?"

"Let's just say you'll get to replenish your stash of chocolate shortly."

Hermione smiled at him, delighted and intrigued. Just the other day she had mentioned to Remus that her supply of chocolate was dangerously low and she couldn't wait for the next Hogsmeade weekend to resolve this crisis. Of course, Remus, being one of the Marauders, knew all about the castle's secret passageways to Hogsmeade — was the surprise a trip to Honeydukes?

"But I should tell you first," he said, "it requires a journey through an underground tunnel, and it also involves some rule breaking. Are you okay with that?"

Hermione knew Remus and his friends had taken many unauthorized excursions from Hogwarts over the years, but she herself wasn't normally one to break the rules simply for pleasure. In this particular instance, however, she had no qualms about doing so.

"I'm up for an adventure," she answered, and his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at her lack of hesitation, though he appeared pleased all the same.

"Come with me, then," he said, taking her hand. "I want to show you one of the castle's secrets."

He didn't take her to the passage under the one-eyed witch, which she knew led directly to Honeydukes, like she expected him to. Instead, they made their way to the fourth floor corridor. After making sure the coast was clear, they approached a large mirror on the wall that Hermione had passed by countless times during her time at Hogwarts. Remus tapped his wand against it. Nothing happened that Hermione could see, but he motioned for her to come forward.

"Ready?" Smiling at the perplexed look she gave him in response, Remus went on to explain, "It's like the barrier between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross station. You just step through the glass to get to the secret passage behind it."

Indeed, it was like walking through the barrier to get to platform nine and three-quarters. The pair stepped forward, meeting their reflections in the mirror, and then they were suddenly in a torch lit room beyond it. At the far end of the room was a door. That was where Remus led her.

"What's in there?" Hermione asked when he opened the door to reveal only darkness on the other side.

"A slide. It'll take us below ground. I'll go first to make sure everything's all right. Wait a few seconds before following me. Don't worry, there's a soft landing."

And then he stepped through the doorway and disappeared. Hermione moved closer to the threshold to peer down to where the slide was said to be, but she couldn't see a thing. She'd just have to trust Remus.

Less practiced and confident than he was, she sat down on the floor by the door, stretching her legs cautiously into the darkness, before she pushed herself forward. With a little scream of fright which turned into exhilaration, she slid down a lengthy stone slide. Her feet touched down on soft earth moments later, but her momentum drove her forward, stumbling, straight into Remus.

"Are you okay?" he asked, steadying her.

Hermione grinned. "That was fun."

She pulled out her wand and muttered, "Lumos," lighting it as Remus had done his and illuminating the tunnel extending before them.

"Where exactly does this lead to?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Remus replied with an air of mystery.

Hermione looped her arm through his and they started down the passageway. Although it didn't feel like long at all, they must have walked for nearly an hour before the twisting and turning tunnel ended in stone steps. Up they went, and when they reached the top of the considerable amount of steps, Remus removed a large slab of stone overhead. They climbed up and were finally above ground again.

Hermione breathed in the frosty, fresh air and took in the stunning scenery around her. They were in the outskirts of Hogsmeade, in the countryside, and from the slope where they stood they had a brilliant view of the picturesque snow-covered village below them and the striking image of Hogwarts' castle beyond that.

"This is beautiful, Remus."

"This is one of my favorite spots in Hogsmeade," he told her. "I like the view from here, especially in the winter."

"The snow makes everything look so magical, doesn't it?"

"It's nice here in the spring as well. If it were warmer, I'd have planned a picnic."

"Oh, let's do a picnic!" Hermione said, lighting up at the idea. "That sounds wonderful!"

"In the snow?"

"Why not? It's not that cold today, and it's so lovely here."

Remus didn't need convincing. He seemed delighted by the idea as well.

The pair made their way down the slope, past the charming cottages, and onto the village's High Street. They decided to go to Honeydukes first. They spent a good deal of time in the sweetshop, wandering amongst the shelves upon shelves of delicious candy, fascinated as ever by the wide assortment of succulent sweets. Most looked mouthwatering while some, like the Cockroach Clusters, sounded simply disgusting. They searched for the most unusual and unappealing products they could find and joked around, daring each other to try them or else teasing that they were going to buy a cauldronful of the candy as a heartfelt gift for the other and would be deeply hurt if they didn't eat them all.

After buying their sweets, they visited a few more shops, and then they returned to the secluded area near the entrance to the secret passageway. They put the Impervius Charm on their newly purchased blanket and spread it on the ground by a couple of snow-covered trees. With their drinks and snacks from the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes, they settled down to enjoy their picnic.

They spent a splendid afternoon there on their blanket in the middle of the snowy countryside. It was nice to be out of Hogwarts for a while, but for Hermione it was even better to be close to Remus again, to be able to make up for all the time they'd had to maintain their distance this past week. She was grateful for their kisses, which tasted delectably like chocolate from the sweets they were eating, and she snuggled close to him and his warmth as evening approached. Sitting by his side with her head on his shoulder and looking out at the gorgeous view before them, Hermione felt perfectly content.

So when he told her it was time for them to return to the castle, she wasn't eager to leave.

"It's nearly dinnertime and I think the teachers will be suspicious if we miss two meals in a row."

"You're right," Hermione agreed reluctantly. "We should go."

They began to gather their things.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Remus said when he picked up his bag of sweets from Honeydukes. "I have a gift…"

"You didn't really get me those Cockroach Clusters, did you?"

Remus laughed at Hermione's repulsed expression, but what he pulled from his bag was not one of their unsavory finds.

"For you," he said, offering her a chocolate rose.

A strange sense of déjà vu stole over Hermione as she took his gift...

"Thank you, Remus. It's lovely."

He turned to gather the rest of their things while she stared down at the chocolate rose in her hands. She was frowning slightly, bothered by this peculiar feeling that had overcome her. It was like having a word on the tip of your tongue but it remaining stubbornly and frustratingly elusive.

Then, quite suddenly, the memory rushed back to Hermione.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Hermione burst into Dumbledore's office.

"Professor—"

Dumbledore, who had been toying with a small, silver contraption in his hands and pacing, turned around in surprise to face the anxious Hermione.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I remember how I was sent back in time! I remember what happened!"

* * *

 **A/N:** A little cliffhanger for you :)

I must admit I'm a bit terrified every time I post a new chapter because I'm not used to anyone besides me reading my writing. Your comments, though, encourage me and give me confidence, so thank you to each of you lovely reviewers. Thank you also to everyone who has favorited and followed and read this far. I'll do my best to update the next chapters more quickly than these last two. Part one of this story will be coming to an end soon...


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione was sitting across from Dumbledore, trying to remain calm but the sudden rush of memory that had overcome her a short while ago was making it very difficult to do so.

"Professor, I remember everything, but I still don't understand."

"Let us start at the beginning, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "You have previously described to me that you were at a birthday celebration when the time traveling incident occurred. I believe you were asking a friend about a job he'd been offered."

"Yes. We were out in the garden by the gate," Hermione said, relaying the memory to Dumbledore as it played like a movie in her head. "I asked him about the job, and he said he wasn't sure yet if he was going to take it. Then he asked me about Hogwarts, and I had just gotten some really good news so I told him about it. He congratulated me on my achievement, and he — and he picked a rose from the garden and gave it to me."

Hermione stared down at the chocolate rose she still held in her hands.

"It smelled lovely. Like a rose, of course. But there was the faintest hint of another scent…"

She paused again, thinking about the memory so vivid now in her mind's eye, while Dumbledore waited patiently for her to continue.

"I thanked my friend, and when he said he had to go, I asked him if I would see him at Hogwarts. He told me perhaps, and then he left. Disapparated. I didn't go back to the party after he was gone. I felt strangely compelled to be on my own, to go to bed. So when I went inside the house, I went straight upstairs, but I felt odd while I was walking up the steps, blissfully dazed — like I was in some sort of trance. And I also felt a bit dizzy because of the rose. The whisper of a scent I'd detected before had grown stronger, and it didn't smell like a rose at all anymore. It — it smelled like him."

"Like the friend you had just been speaking with?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," breathed Hermione, consumed by the memory of the rose's fragrance and by the same scent of her boyfriend, which still lingered on her from their date earlier.

"What happened next, Miss Granger?"

"I went into the room I was staying in and got ready for bed. Then, while I was lying there, the rose — it started to glow from the bedside table where I had put it. The room was dark, but I could clearly make out the rose, glittering faintly at first, then more and more vibrantly. I wanted to get up and examine it, but my limbs, my eyes, were growing too heavy and I couldn't. The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was a blinding flash of light coming from the rose. When I woke up later, I was at Hogwarts with — with the friend I had been speaking with before. Except he looked much younger, and he had no idea who I was or how I had suddenly appeared. That was when I ran to find you, Professor, because I didn't know what else to do."

Hermione set the chocolate rose down on the desk before her and looked up at Dumbledore anxiously, wondering what he would make of all this.

"Before you time traveled, why did you ask your friend if you would see him at Hogwarts?" he inquired. "Is he a professor?"

"Yes, sir. Well, he was."

The Headmaster nodded and continued to sit there deep in thought, his hands clasped together with index fingers to his lips. Hermione knew she shouldn't interrupt his mental processes, but she had to voice what had been troubling her since she'd regained her memory.

"Professor, do you think my friend could have somehow enchanted the rose to send me back in time?"

Dumbledore refocused his gaze on her.

"Do you believe he would do that, Miss Granger?"

"No, he wouldn't," Hermione answered her own disquieting question with utter certainty. "And he _couldn't_ have, could he? I don't know if that's even possible. Enchanting a rose with the power of time travel would take extraordinary skill and extremely powerful magic. And anyway, the rose seemed like a normal rose. I saw him pick it from where it grew in the garden. It only changed after he gave it to me."

"Perhaps it was the act of him giving you the rose and you accepting it which bestowed the rose with magical qualities," Dumbledore posed thoughtfully.

"How do you mean, sir?"

"Perhaps the _intention_ behind the act is what sparked the magic."

"I don't understand, Professor. He was just congratulating me."

"Is there anything more than friendship between you and this man in your time?"

"No, sir," Hermione said, her face growing warm at the unexpected question. "Not at all."

Dumbledore surveyed her blushing face.

"I am not here to judge, Miss Granger. I only wish to help."

"Honestly, Professor, there's nothing between us. We're hardly even friends, really."

Dumbledore continued to study her shrewdly.

"But you have feelings for this man?"

"I…" Hermione hesitated to reveal her most guarded feelings. In a small voice, she asked, "Is that relevant, sir?"

"It may prove to be very much so, yes."

"I do, Professor," she confessed quietly, looking down at her hands. "But I hadn't truly acknowledged them until — well, until all this happened."

Dumbledore was silent. When Hermione looked up at him again, she saw a softness in his eyes she hadn't expected to see.

"Does this man harbor romantic feelings for you as well?" he asked.

Feeling a pang in her heart, she said, "No, he — he's never said or done anything that would suggest that."

"A man who gives a rose to a woman typically does this as a romantic gesture," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yes, but he didn't mean it like that, Professor," Hermione said, though now she wasn't so sure. Just a couple of hours ago, the teenage Remus had given her a chocolate rose as a romantic gesture… but she needed to focus on the older Remus, the one she knew in her proper time. "He was congratulating me and the flowers were just there. He didn't — it was completely spontaneous."

"Spontaneous actions often reveal more of our true feelings and desires than do our thought-out behaviors. Do you not believe it is possible for this man to have feelings for you?"

Was it possible? As much as Hermione would've liked for the answer to be yes, she found it hard to imagine the Remus she'd known as Professor Lupin being interested in her, much less could she imagine him pursuing a romantic relationship with her like his younger self had. She didn't even know if he was free to pursue her in the future. She had no idea what his relationship status was.

Now that she thought about it, Hermione had never known Remus to be romantically involved with anybody in the years they'd been acquainted. But that didn't mean he never had been. She just knew very little about his personal life. Although he was as kind and friendly with everyone as his younger self was, the older Remus was at the same time more distant and private when it came to certain matters. She knew that his reserved nature probably had a lot to do with his lycanthropy, and she thought that perhaps the stigma surrounding his kind was the reason why he hadn't yet married. Add on top of that stigma the impropriety of being involved with a former student who was half his age…

"I don't know," Hermione told Dumbledore. "But I do know nothing can happen between us, so it doesn't really matter, sir, does it?"

"Of course it matters."

Hermione shook her head.

"Even if he did have feelings for me, I don't believe he'd ever act on them. He would think it inappropriate. He wouldn't be able to look past the age difference, or the fact that I'm his former student, or the fear that he's too dangerous for me because he's a — because — well, that's not the point."

The reality of the older Remus not being able to see her in a romantic light beginning to upset her, Hermione changed the subject.

"Shouldn't we be focusing on the rose, Professor? How it was cursed and why it sent me here? Shouldn't we be trying to figure out how the magic works?"

"I believe I have already worked that out," said Dumbledore humbly.

"You have?" she said, surprised.

"Yes. But before I share with you my theory, I need you to confirm a few suppositions of mine. First, based on what I have observed between the pair of you, I take it you and Mr. Remus Lupin are romantically involved?"

Hermione knew it must be obvious to anyone who had seen them together recently that she and Remus were involved, and she remembered that Dumbledore had also seen them kissing beneath the mistletoe once. So, unable to deny the fact, she said, "Er — yes, sir."

"And it was Remus who gave you this?" asked Dumbledore, indicating the chocolate rose.

"Yes, Professor."

"And the recovered memory of the rose that transported you here was triggered by this chocolate rose?"

Hermione, shifting nervously in her seat now, again affirmed the Headmaster's supposition.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes piercing hers, "am I correct in presuming that the friend who offered you the rose in your time, the friend to whom you were directly sent back in this time, was Remus Lupin?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened. Dumbledore looked at her in something close to amusement.

"I will take that as a yes," he said triumphantly.

Feeling a great need to explain herself, Hermione quickly said, "Professor, please believe me, I — I didn't mean for anything to happen between Remus and me. I didn't—"

Dumbledore put a hand up to silence her.

"I believe that you did not intend for any of this to occur. You do not need to give explanations, nor should you feel guilty about your feelings for Remus. Do you hear me, Miss Granger? Not now, nor in the future."

He looked at her expectantly.

"Okay, sir," she said softly.

Dumbledore smiled.

"Now, for my theory. The rose is not cursed as you alluded to earlier. On the contrary. I believe it is pure, as pure as the sentiment with which it was presented to you."

"But Professor, I'm not sure there _was_ any sentiment."

"It is clear Remus has feelings for you. The two of you are romantically involved."

"In _this_ time, Professor. Not in the future. The situation — it's completely different."

"But Remus's heart is the same."

Dumbledore put his hand up again to keep Hermione from arguing any further, which she appeared to have every intention of doing.

"Please listen to what I have to say, Miss Granger. Some do consider me to be a very wise wizard after all," he said with a good-natured twinkle in his eye.

"I'm sorry, Professor. Please, go on."

"As I was about to say, I am absolutely confident that the magic the rose possesses was born from the act of Remus offering to you the rose — a symbol of his true feelings for you, however unacknowledged they may be in your time — and from your wholehearted acceptance of the rose in return. The sentiment behind the exchange, the sentiment shared by both you and Remus, imbued the rose with the most powerful magic in existence, magic which sent you here, for you to realize the strength of your feelings for Remus and his for you. This magic, unfortunately, will not return you to your time."

Hermione, who had been enthralled by Dumbledore's fairytale-like explanation of the magical rose, now looked at him in shock upon hearing his last statement.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"If the rose intended to return you to your time, I believe it would have done so in place of returning your memory."

"But — but what does that mean? Does the rose intend for me to _stay_ here?"

"Of that I am not certain."

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at Hermione.

"Would that be such a terrible thing, Miss Granger? Staying? I only ask because you seem convinced you could not be with Remus in your time. However, as you said so yourself, the situation here is quite different. Furthermore, you have told me in one of our previous meetings that you were starting to feel as though _this_ were your real life and it would feel strange returning home."

This was all very true. As of late, Hermione had been thinking much less about her life in her proper time in the future and much more about Remus here in the past. She wasn't sure if the older Remus could have feelings for her, but like she told Dumbledore, she _was_ fairly certain he wouldn't approach her even if he did. But here they were already together and happy, happier than either of them had ever been…

"No, I _can't_ stay," Hermione said suddenly, her senses catching up to her. There was no way she could stay.

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't belong here, Professor. I couldn't _,_ " she stated firmly. "If I stay, too much would change, too much would be affected."

Dumbledore studied her a moment, and noting her resolve he simply said, "Very well, then."

"But sir, if the rose won't return me home, how will I—?"

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, raising his finger. "Do not forget…"

The Headmaster reached down and opened his desk drawer. What he pulled out of it made Hermione's stomach drop.

"We requested a Time-Turner from the Ministry," Dumbledore reminded her as he set the large and shiny silver hourglass beside the chocolate rose on the desk between them.

Hermione remembered him telling her during their last meeting that he was supposed to speak with the Ministry. She'd been so preoccupied with Remus lately she'd completely forgotten to ask the Headmaster about how the meeting had went.

"Forgive me for not notifying you as soon as I acquired it as I had promised. I wanted to wait a while in the hope that you would regain the memory we needed in order to learn how you were transported here. I did not feel comfortable sending you back home without first having this knowledge."

Hermione stared at the Time-Turner.

"So...I can go home now?" she said numbly, unsure how she felt about this. She should be happy, shouldn't she?

"If that is your wish."

 _Was_ that her wish? Hermione's earlier resolve was wavering. She unwillingly glanced at the chocolate rose, then forced her gaze back to the Time-Turner. She _had_ to go. She shouldn't even entertain the idea of staying.

"Well, I don't really have a choice, do I?" she said more to herself than to Dumbledore.

"You always have a choice," the Headmaster replied.

Hermione wasn't so sure about that.

* * *

Hermione entered her dorm to find a box of chocolates waiting for her on the table. A bittersweet smile crossed her face as she thought of Remus. She knew she had to go home soon, but it didn't make the idea of leaving any easier. She tried to console her blues by reminding herself she would see Remus again in the future. It wasn't like this was a real goodbye.

Hermione sighed and opened the inviting box of chocolates. A delicious assortment of her favorite sweets lay inside. She made to pick out one of the dark pieces when, without warning, the box erupted into flames.

She backed away from the table cautiously, but the fire died just as rapidly as it had ignited. A silver Time-Turner was left in its wake. Hermione stared at the simple but potent object, entranced by the sand swirling inside. It was dazzling. Feeling oddly compelled to do so, she touched the hourglass.

The world spun around her and Hermione fell screaming into oblivion. She landed harshly in impenetrable darkness. Clumsily, she got to her feet and looked around, but she couldn't see a thing. Where was she? What just happened? Sensing danger, she began to run, from what or to where she had no idea, but she kept moving, one foot in front of the other until she hurtled into another figure. The Time-Turner she had gripped in her hand shattered upon the impact, the sand slipping through her fingers. At the same time, an eerie glow fell over her and the person she'd collided with.

"Remus! What's going on? Where—?"

Hermione broke off. This Remus had gray in his sandy brown hair…

"Remus," she said breathlessly, her heart leaping at the sight of the man before her. Without thinking, she leapt as well, right into his arms, her lips crashing into his—

Remus pulled away from her in a hurry, a shocked expression on his face. "Hermione — what are you doing?"

And then she remembered this Remus's memory had been Obliviated. He didn't know what they had lived together in his youth. He remembered nothing of what had passed between them, which meant she was nothing to him now, not anymore.

"Oh, I — I'm sorry, I—"

"Forget it," he said, saving her the trouble of coming up with an explanation for her overly familiar greeting. He turned his wary gaze away from her to glance around them. "Where are we? How did we get here?" Then he looked down at his hands and appeared surprised by what he was holding. "What is this?"

"The rose!" Hermione exclaimed, a thrill of instinctive recognition running through her at the sight of the beautiful flower. "That's the rose you gave me! Dumbledore said it's a symbol of our — of our feelings…"

She trailed off, reminding herself that this Remus didn't know anything about their romance in the past.

Eying her warily again, he asked, "What feelings?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked away from him, her gaze returning to the flower in his hands.

"Oh, no!" she cried when the gorgeous red rose suddenly began to change. It quickly wilted and withered before her eyes, turning into a pitiful, shriveled up flower in a matter of seconds. Hermione stepped forward, wanting to somehow save the rose, but an alarmed Remus raised a hand to stop her from coming any closer to him.

"Don't, Hermione."

Her outstretched arms instantly dropped to her sides and she went still.

"I just wanted to see—" she began, but Remus shook his head slightly and Hermione immediately fell quiet. She wanted to speak, but her voice was gone. She tried to move, but her muscles wouldn't respond. She looked at Remus, confused and afraid, but he only gazed at her impassively. Then she realized _he_ was doing this to her. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak — he was keeping her painfully inert. Why?

"I'm sorry," he said, his expression stony.

He took a step back and fear flared within Hermione. She desperately wanted to grab hold of him, to say something to make him stay, but he wouldn't unbind her. She could only watch in helpless silence while he turned from her, dispassionately dropping the dead rose to the ground where it disintegrated, crumbling to dust. She could do nothing as Remus walked away without so much as a backward glance, disappearing into obscurity and leaving her alone to struggle fruitlessly in the fading glow….

Hermione awoke, an awful, aching feeling in her heart.

"A dream," she whispered pleadingly into the darkness. Grateful to find she could move again, she reached for her wand and a moment later illuminated her surroundings. She was in her dorm at Hogwarts, exactly where she should be. She hadn't time traveled. She was still in the past.

"Only a dream," she confirmed, though it wasn't exactly a relief.

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and wrapped herself up tightly in her blankets. She felt cold, like an icy stake had been driven through her chest. The image of Remus discarding the shriveled rose and walking away from her played over and over in her mind. It'd been a dream, just a dream, but she feared it would soon become a reality.


	17. Chapter 17

"You're leaving?" Remus said, looking completely stunned by the news Hermione had just given him.

"I'm leaving," she regretfully confirmed.

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Yes."

Remus simply stared at her for several long moments before shaking his head in disbelief. He appeared to be at a loss, unable or unwilling to accept what she was telling him.

"But that's so soon," he said finally. "That's _tomorrow._ "

"I know," Hermione said softly. She was painfully aware of that fact.

"Why so soon? Why now?"

"I have to, Remus."

After learning about the magic rose and the Time-Turner last night, Hermione had told Dumbledore the sooner she left the better. She knew the longer she stayed here the harder it would be to say goodbye. It was already difficult enough.

"Are you in some kind of danger?" Remus asked, worry crossing his features.

"No, of course not. What makes you think that?"

"I sort of have a theory. You know, about what you promised Dumbledore to keep secret."

"You do?" Hermione said, a bit apprehensive that her astute boyfriend had speculated about this enough to have come up with a theory.

"Yeah. You told me when you first transferred here that last year was tough for you because you were always on the move and worrying about everyone's well-being. I think maybe you were on the run, and the witch you told me about, the one who attacked you for being Muggle-born, was a Death Eater. I think they might have targeted you for some reason, and you're staying here now at Hogwarts to be under Dumbledore's protection."

Impressed by Remus's guess work, but more greatly relieved that he hadn't mentioned anything about time travel, she told him, "I promise you, Remus, I'm not in any danger. I just have to go."

"Because of the thing you can't tell me about?"

"Yes."

"But you'll be safe?"

His concern for her touched her deeply. Feeling the threat of tears sting her eyes and not trusting her voice anymore, Hermione nodded and then she hugged him, holding him tightly. She couldn't help but feel like this was a permanent goodbye, an irrevocable farewell to the opportunity of being happy with him. Although she trusted Dumbledore and therefore his theory about the rose, she strongly doubted the possibility of the older Remus returning her affections in her proper time. The way he'd pulled away from their kiss in her dream and walked off without a backward glance kept haunting her. She knew this could very well be her final day with Remus.

Much to Hermione's dismay, this potential last day was passing by much too quickly. Before she knew it, morning was gone. Then the afternoon seemed to whirl by in a flash. Hermione wondered why whenever a person wished time to stand still it seemed to pass by at lightning speed instead. She and Remus tried to act normal and keep things lighthearted so they could make the most of the little time they had left, but the knowledge of Hermione's imminent departure loomed over them like a Dementor. They kept the soul-sucking creature at bay the best they could, but it became much harder to do so once dusk fell.

After dinner, the couple curled up together by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room and remained there for hours, long after all the other Gryffindors spending their holiday at Hogwarts had retired to bed, when little more than embers were left burning before them. Time was ticking away, surely and steadily, but neither Hermione nor Remus wanted to leave each other's side.

During the intermittent silences in their conversation, Hermione kept thinking how this might be the last time she'd ever be sitting like this with Remus. Would she ever be able to hold his hand again in the future? Would she ever again be able to talk and laugh with him so openly and freely? Would she even be able to _see_ him if he didn't take the teaching position at Hogwarts? She knew she should count her lucky stars for having been able to experience all that she had with Remus, but her mind started to dwell on what they hadn't yet had a chance to do.

"We never got to dance," she said quietly.

"What?"

Hermione lifted her head from Remus's shoulder.

"You still owe me a dance from Halloween," she told him, and a slow smile crossed his face.

"You're right." He got to his feet before her. "I will honor my debt," he said, offering her his hand, "if you will honor me."

"But there's no music," Hermione said, taking his hand nonetheless.

"We can make our own. Or better yet," he said, his eyes lighting up as an idea struck him, "we can borrow James's radio. It's in our dorm. I'll be right back."

Remus kissed the back of her hand before letting her go. Hermione watched him disappear through the door leading to the boys' dormitories. A few seconds later, she impulsively followed.

She climbed up to the top of the staircase where she knew the seventh-year boys' dormitory to be. The door was open, but she paused at the threshold. She could see Remus inside, kneeling by the trunk at the end of one of the beds, presumably James's, rummaging for the radio.

"Any luck?" she asked.

Remus looked over at her in surprise. He obviously hadn't expected her to follow him up there.

"Not yet, but I'm sure it's here somewhere," he said and continued his search.

Hermione stepped into the room and glanced around. It was significantly tidier than when she had been in there last. Probably because Remus was the only one currently sleeping there. All the others had gone home for Christmas.

"Accio James's radio."

They both waited expectantly, but nothing came of Remus's Summoning Charm.

"I guess it's not here," he said disappointedly. He flicked his wand to return his friend's possessions to their place. "James must have taken it home with him."

He closed the lid of the trunk and looked over at Hermione in time to see the smile quirk her lips.

"What's so amusing?" he asked her.

"I was just remembering how we first met."

"In the corridor when you were new and lost and asked me for directions?" he said, his eyes twinkling at the story she'd made up in order to ease the awkwardness between them from their actual first encounter.

"I mean the way we really met. In here. You fell so gracefully to the floor when you first saw me."

Remus laughed.

"Well, it's not every day you wake up next to a complete stranger," he justified. "Except…"

Hermione watched as his smile faded away.

"Except what?" she asked.

"Except I didn't feel like we were strangers. For a moment, when our eyes first met, I had this inexplicable feeling that you knew me."

Hermione felt a flutter of nervousness under his gaze. Carefully, she asked him, "You think we could have met before?"

Remus frowned at her slightly as he studied her face, then shook his head.

"No, I would have remembered. Even if I had just caught a glimpse of you in passing, I would have remembered you. You'd be impossible to forget."

But he _would_ forget her. Dumbledore would make sure of that. Remus would forget her completely. He wouldn't remember any of the moments he'd spent with her in this time. He wouldn't remember any of the kisses they'd shared. He would forget all of his feelings for her. It would be as if he'd never had them, as if none of this had ever happened. She alone would remember how amazing it had been between them, and it would be torture.

"I wish I didn't have to go," she said, her voice breaking as she moved toward him, seeking his comforting embrace.

"Me too," Remus said, holding her close. "But we'll write to each other like we promised, and we can see each other again when school is out."

Hermione remained silent. Remus wouldn't see her again for fifteen years…

"Jean," he said, pulling back slightly to better look at her. "We'll see each other again, won't we?"

"We will," she told him softly, but her somberness was mirrored in his expression.

She reached up to caress his kind and handsome face. Would this be the last time she'd ever get to touch him like this? Tears fell from her eyes before she could blink them back. Remus looked helpless as he gently wiped them way. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and then his mouth found hers. Knowing this might be one of the last kisses he'd ever give her, Hermione clutched his shirt when he pulled away again, not wanting to let him go.

"Remus," she whispered almost pleadingly, gazing intently into his green-gray eyes. He searched her brown ones and she wondered if he could read in them just how much she wished she could stay, how much she yearned to be with him, because his expression suddenly revealed a distress similar to her own, a similar yearning, and after a breathless moment his lips recaptured hers.

But this time his kiss was different. He kissed her with more urgency, with deeper feeling than he'd ever kissed her with before, and Hermione was overcome with emotion. She became utterly consumed with a feeling she had never felt so strongly, a feeling more profound than she'd ever imagined it could be. There was an urgency behind her kiss as well, a sort of desperation pouring from her soul.

That desperation quickly became tinged with desire, a desire which strengthened with each passing second. Hermione was electrified by the growing passion between them, and when Remus's fingers slipped beneath her sweater and stripped it off, she made no attempt to stop him. Instead, she slid her hands into his open coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She was no longer thinking. She was completely losing control, losing herself, but in the most magnificent way. She was giving in to the glorious feeling, surrendering herself entirely to the magic, and to Remus — the man she loved.

Not consciously realizing that they'd been slowly backing up towards his bed, Hermione unexpectedly bumped into the mattress. She fell back upon it, instinctively grabbing hold of Remus's shirt and pulling him so that he stooped down towards her. She took advantage of her stumble and their position by swiftly removing his shirt. Her fingers then sought to caress every inch she could reach of his newly exposed skin, and she relished in the feel of his lean body, his toned arms, his back, his chest—

Suddenly, Hermione's hands went still. She broke apart from their kiss to view the various scars beneath her fingertips. Remus stepped away from her.

"I know they're not a pleasant sight," he said. "If they bother you—"

"They don't."

Hermione stood up and cautiously reached out to him. When Remus didn't move away, she lightly traced a scar that ran from his neck, over his collarbone, and down across his chest.

"I just don't like that you've been hurt." She placed soft kisses along his old wound, then looked him directly in the eyes. "And believe me, Remus, you _are_ a pleasant sight."

He was gorgeous and she told him so.

Remus reclaimed her lips with new vigor. His hands trailed down her body before grasping the hem of her blouse and slipping it off. He backed her up onto his bed again and gently guided her down into a lying position. Tenderly, he began to explore her curves, his tantalizing touch on her bare skin making her shiver. Her longing for him was being fueled by his every caress, by the way his mouth moved down her neck, to her chest, to the tops of her breasts. He was expertly producing sensations of the most wonderful kind in her, warm and tingly and good _._

He trailed kisses down to her navel, and Hermione gasped when he undid the button on her jeans. Remus paused, glancing up at her, seeking her permission. She gave him a small nod and bit her lip nervously as he tugged off her pants and shoes. She had never gone anywhere near this far with anybody else before. She'd only ever kissed her former boyfriends, and even those kisses had been on the chaste side. Now she was here in bed with Remus, half naked, and he was telling her she was beautiful as he admired her figure with blazing eyes. She felt warm under the intensity of his gaze, and even warmer when his own jeans came off, revealing more of his fit physique.

The feel of his body next to hers as they lay together, of the delicious tension building between them, was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Anticipation swelled within her and she was filled with a powerful need to be even nearer to Remus. She pulled him closer, urging him for more contact, more friction, and he eagerly complied.

Hermione squirmed from the pleasurable discomfort of their proximity. This was all much more intense than she had expected. She was overwhelmed by the sensations that his kiss and touch were eliciting, overwhelmed by the feel of his erection against her thigh.

Her heart began beating wildly. She was finding it difficult to breathe. A surge of panic coursed through her, and her head began to buzz—

 _What was she doing?_

They were heading toward the point of no return and part of Hermione wanted to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. This might be the only opportunity she'd ever have to be with Remus. She really wanted this, and in this moment so did he. He would never remember this in the future anyway, never know what they had done. But _she_ would. The rest of Hermione knew that if she allowed this to go any further, she would never be able to look the older Remus in the eye again. If she didn't stop this now, she would be crossing a flagrant red line and would have to pay for it somehow when she returned to her time. She had already gone much too far.

"Remus," Hermione said breathily, halting his pursuit to remove the rest of her clothing. "Remus, wait."

Immediately, though she could tell it was reluctantly, he pulled away from her.

"I-I'm not sure I can do this," she said, sitting up and shifting back against the headboard. "I've never done this before. I — I'm not sure I'm ready."

The blazing look in his eyes gradually extinguished as he examined her face. After a few moments, he softly caressed her cheek, then his hand covered hers.

"If you're not sure, then we shouldn't."

"I'm sorry, Remus."

"You don't need to apologize. _I'm_ sorry if I pushed you."

"You didn't. I really wanted to, but… I'm sorry," she said, wishing she could have gone through with this.

"It's okay, Jean. I understand. I've never either."

"You — you haven't?" she said, surprised. Judging by the confidence in his actions earlier, she had thought otherwise, but Remus shook his head.

Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't believe what she had almost done. She was immensely grateful she'd stopped this when she had. If she had been the one he'd lost his virginity to, it would have made the situation infinitely more unforgivable.

"Remus, can I still stay here tonight?" she asked tentatively. "Can we — can you just hold me?"

"Of course," he said at once.

Hermione didn't know how she was going to get to sleep with all that was going on inside of her, but a short while later she was wearing one of Remus's jumpers and lying with him under the covers. He had his arm around her and was lightly stroking her hair as she rested her head against his chest. She felt so _right_ there beside him. She felt so right whenever he held her, as though being in his arms was exactly where she was meant to be.

It didn't take long for Hermione's eyes to grow heavy under the calming effect of his rhythmic breathing and the comfort of his natural warmth. She drifted off to sleep listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

* * *

Hermione didn't allow herself to sleep for long. She awoke at the crack of dawn, snuggled next to Remus and sorely tempted to continue lying there with him for a few more minutes, or maybe forever. She was incapable of quelling the fear that this might be the last time she'd ever be this close to him. But as much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't stay. She had to get up now. She needed to go before Remus woke. She might not have the will to leave otherwise.

Careful not to rouse him, Hermione extricated herself from him and quietly found a piece of parchment. She wrote a short note to Remus apologizing for not saying goodbye. It tore her heart imagining him waking up to find her already gone, and she hated to do this, but she had to.

She placed the note on the pillow next to him and allowed herself one last, longing look at Remus before forcing herself to turn away. She walked out of the room, biting her lip and trying to maintain her resolve, trying to hold herself together. But her vision blurred as she left Gryffindor Tower and she dabbed hopelessly at her eyes with her sleeve.

After making a quick detour to her dorm, she headed toward Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster gave her a sympathetic look when she entered.

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?" he asked, retrieving the Time-Turner from his desk.

Hermione nodded rather grudgingly.

"You have already given me a list of people whose memories I must Obliviate. I will wait until classes resume and word of your transfer to a new school spreads before I act. This will decrease the chance of classmates mentioning you to Remus and your other friends after they have already been made to forget you."

Dumbledore passed the Time-Turner to Hermione.

"All you must do is turn the hourglass once in your hands and you will be returned to your true time."

Hermione stared solemnly at the Time-Turner, then looked up at the Headmaster.

"Thank you so much for your help, Professor. Thank you for everything."

"It has been a pleasure, Miss Granger. Till next we meet."

Dumbledore smiled at her, but she had difficulty returning it. This would be the last time she'd ever see the greatest wizard of all time alive.

"Goodbye, Professor."

She turned the hourglass and the world dissolved dizzyingly around her.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to a familiar room. It was colorfully decorated with posters of the Weird Sisters and the Holyhead Harpies on the walls — she was definitely back at the Burrow.

She slowly sat up in bed. Her head feeling foggy, she started rubbing her temple and in that moment became aware of the absence of the Time-Turner in her hands. She looked all around her, but it was nowhere to be seen. It had disappeared.

Or maybe it had never existed…

Hermione began to question whether everything she'd experienced with Remus in the past had just been an extremely elaborate dream — it _had_ been too good to be true — but then she glanced down at her clothing. She was wearing Remus's blue jumper. It had all been real.

Just then, the youngest Weasley came into her bedroom.

"I thought you were already up," the redhead yawned.

"Ginny!"

Feeling like she hadn't seen her in ages, Hermione jumped out of bed to embrace her good friend.

"Morning," a bemused Ginny greeted, patting Hermione on the back. "Mum says breakfast is ready, and if we're not down in five minutes we're not getting any. Jeez. We were up most of the night and she expects us to be fully functional _this_ early in the morning?"

"Last night — it was Harry's birthday, right?"

"Er, yeah," Ginny answered, giving her a funny look. "You feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," Hermione lied.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" the redhead asked, looking at her more closely.

"Yeah. It was just a late night like you said."

"Okay. Well, since I'm up, I'm getting breakfast. Are you coming?"

"I'll be down in a minute."

Ginny left the room and Hermione glanced around. On the bedside table was the rose Remus had given her. Although it looked perfectly ordinary, she could sense its magic as soon as she picked it up. She felt a soft hum tickle her fingers, like an energy was emanating from the flower, a vitality. The rose was _alive_. She inhaled its scent. It still smelled like Remus.

Hermione reached under the neck of her jumper to pull out the necklace he'd given her for Christmas. She touched the words engraved on the heart-shaped pendant: _Be Silently Drawn._ She then reached into her pocket and pulled out the photograph of her and Remus sitting together by the fire. They appeared to be in love as Lily had once told her. They were gazing at each other so tenderly.

Hermione couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she stared at the picture in her hands. The necklace and photograph proved that everything with Remus had truly happened, but it may as well have been a dream. Now, she was back to reality and she feared Remus would never look at her that way again.

 **End of Part One**

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading part one of my story! I hope you enjoyed it even though the ending is sad.

Part two of this romance coming soon! Prepare to delve into Remus's mind. I'll be writing from his point of view too from now on.

Also, thank you as always to each of you wonderful reviewers. I love hearing your thoughts on the story (feedback is always much appreciated) and reading your comments just makes me that much more excited to continue writing this fanfic.

 **Edit to A/N:** Just to be clear, I'll be posting the rest of the story right here. I will  not be posting part two as a separate story. Part two will begin in the next chapter. Sorry if I confused anybody.


	18. Chapter 18 (Part Two)

**Be Silently Drawn  
** Part Two

Hermione lay restlessly in the darkness of her bedroom. Sleep eluded her again tonight like it had done so often lately. As much as she wanted to, she simply could not turn off her mind, could not stem the flow of her thoughts, which gravitated toward Remus and the time she'd spent with him twenty years in the past. The memories, so achingly bittersweet now, gripped her firmly and would not let her go.

 _Their first kiss under the star-strewn night sky…_

 _Butterflies swooping in her stomach every time he smiled at her…_

 _The warmth of his embrace melting her in the midst of the stinging cold snow…_

Hermione didn't know how she had survived the last few weeks without him after spending the previous three months constantly by his side. She missed Remus so much. Like she'd done countless times since she'd returned to the present, she took the rose from her bedside table, the beautiful, magical rose that somehow looked as freshly picked and as gorgeous as it had the night Remus had plucked it from the Weasleys' garden. The only comfort she had was its scent, _his_ scent. But that was not nearly enough.

 _Sitting together by the fireplace, his fingers interlacing with hers…_

 _The hours that flew by while they studied together, and their stifled laughter in the quiet library whenever they got off track…_

 _Their last night together in the boys' dormitory…_

Hermione heaved a frustrated sigh and glanced at her alarm clock: 1:17 AM.

A few minutes later, having accepted that trying to find sleep tonight was futile, Hermione sat in the kitchen of her parents' home, idly submerging a teabag into a mug of steaming hot water and reading a book of poetry written by a man called Rumi.

"I knew you'd be up."

Hermione looked up from her book. Her mother stood at the entrance to the kitchen wearing a blue dressing gown and a tired but gentle smile.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right, honey," Mrs. Granger said, moving toward the counter to pour herself a glass of water. "Like I said, I expected you to be up. You never can sleep the night before school starts. Every year I find you awake, drinking tea or hot cocoa and poring over one of your new textbooks." She took a seat next to her daughter. "Which one is it this time?"

"It's not a book for school. It's a collection of poems."

"May I have a look?"

Hermione sipped her tea while her mother read the poem she'd been contemplating moments before, the poem from which the three words engraved on the necklace Remus had given her had been taken. Shortly upon returning to her parents' home the day after Harry's birthday, Hermione had done some research on the phrase and gone to a nearby bookshop to purchase Rumi's work.

"Ah," Mrs. Granger said when she reached the lines Hermione had highlighted. She put the book down on the table and studied her daughter closely with her keen brown eyes. "When are you going to tell me about him?"

"About who?"

"About the boy who gave you that necklace you're always wearing and that rose you keep on your nightstand. The boy you're in love with."

"How did you know I'm…?"

Hermione trailed off, unable to bring herself to say the next two words. Not because they weren't true — they absolutely were — but because in some ways the realization that she was in love with Remus, and the vulnerability that came along with that realization, terrified her.

"I'm your mother. I know these things," Mrs. Granger replied with a warm smile. "So, who is he and when did this happen? I want to know all about this boy."

Hermione hesitated. She hadn't told anybody anything about her time traveling experience or her relationship with the younger Remus. She hadn't even told Ginny, whom she usually confided in when it came to boys. She just couldn't. It was all too incredible, too personal, and she didn't know how to even begin to explain everything that had happened to her in the past. She was also afraid of what her friends might think.

But keeping all this to herself had been slowly wearing on Hermione to the point that she felt like she needed to talk to someone about Remus right now, however vaguely, or she might explode.

"His name is Remus," she said, certain that she'd never mentioned his first name to her mother before. She didn't want her parents to know she was in love with Lupin, the man she'd told them about in the past, the one who had been her professor in third year and who also just happened to be a werewolf. They would undoubtedly disapprove of that. "He's very smart and brave and good at magic, a powerful wizard, and a real gentleman, too, sweet and thoughtful, and also very handsome and funny in a quiet sort of way."

"He sounds wonderful."

"He is."

"Then why do you look so sad, dear? Is it because you miss him? But you'll see him tomorrow at school, won't you?"

"I'm not entirely sure I will, Mum. I don't know whether he'll be returning to Hogwarts, and if he does…I don't know what will happen. I don't even know if he has feelings for me anymore."

"He obviously likes you very much if he's giving you flowers and jewelry."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, Mum. Things are different now. Even if he did…we couldn't…"

"Why not?"

"Because…it's complicated."

"Relationships tend to be that way," Mrs. Granger sighed. "But I think you should have a talk with this Remus as soon as you can, figure out where you stand."

Hermione wished it was that simple. She wished she could just talk to Remus about their relationship, but according to his Obliviated memory they'd never _had_ a relationship. To him, she was only a former student and a friend of Harry's. He had no idea he had once asked her out, that he had once had feelings for her, and it wasn't like she could just tell him.

So what was she to do? She didn't know, which was why she hadn't even considered seeking him out since returning to the present. In truth, she was a bit terrified of seeing him again for the first time since their romance in the past, afraid of how she'd react. She didn't know how she should behave around him, didn't know whether she could pretend like nothing had ever happened.

As Hermione returned to bed a short while later, she pondered one of her mother's questions: _when did this happen?_ When exactly had her feelings for Remus grown so strong? When had her schoolgirl crush on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher develop into the love she felt for him now? Had it ever been simply a crush?

Hermione thought back to her second year at Hogwarts. She and many of her classmates had been impressed by Professor Lockhart's charming smile, charisma, and supposed heroic adventures. _That_ had only been a schoolgirl crush, superficial and evanescent. What she'd felt for Remus the next year had been distinct, differing also from the way she'd fancied Viktor Krum and Ronald Weasley in later years. Her feelings for Remus had been more subtle and harder to define, but the pull she felt toward him was very much present even then, and strong, strong enough for her to want to protect his secret.

A memory from her third year sprang to mind…

 _With difficulty, Hermione successfully managed to cram her Defense Against the Dark Arts book into her overstuffed bag. Her relief, however, was short-lived. Just as she was heaving her bag over her shoulder, a classmate accidentally knocked into her in his haste to exit the classroom. Her bag fell to the floor, bursting open, and out spilled some of her carefully arranged books. With an exasperated groan, she knelt down to pick up her things._

 _Everyone else had already gone, but Hermione could still hear the voices of Harry and Ron, who were lingering at their desks, speaking in low, excited tones. She glanced up at them. When Ron caught sight of her, his expression darkened. He nudged Harry toward the door and glared at her as they walked past, leaving her behind in the classroom, alone once again._

 _Hermione finished gathering her books and miserably began reorganizing the contents of her bag. She was close to tears, feeling overwhelmed by everything she'd been dealing with lately, the worst of which — even more awful than the constant stress of keeping up with her overloaded course schedule and ever growing mountain of homework — was this horrible rift that had developed between her and her two best friends._

 _"They'll come around."_

 _Hermione started at the sound of the nearby voice. She spun around to find Lupin standing at his desk, packing up a stack of papers he'd apparently forgotten. She'd been so consumed by her troubles that she hadn't even noticed when he'd reentered the classroom. Her professor clasped his briefcase shut and looked up at her with his kind eyes._

 _"Harry and Ron will come around," he repeated._

 _"I don't know," Hermione said uncertainly. "They were angry at me before for getting the Firebolt confiscated, and now they're not talking to me because they think what happened to Scabbers is my fault."_

 _"I'm sure you're not responsible for what happened to Scabbers, and you were right to tell McGonagall about the Firebolt. Harry's safety is far more important than a silly broomstick or Quidditch match."_

 _Lupin stooped down to retrieve her quill, which had tumbled over toward his desk when her bag had fallen._

 _"They'll wise up, Hermione," he said, handing her back the quill. "Sooner rather than later, I reckon."_

 _Hermione stared after Lupin as he left the room. She knew he was a werewolf. She had known for a long time, ever since she had written that essay for Snape, and she knew she should have probably informed somebody about him. But she hadn't. She hadn't told Dumbledore (who certainly wouldn't have knowingly employed at his school a werewolf as dangerous as described in the textbooks) about Lupin's secret even though she was well aware of the possible threat he posed to the safety of everyone at Hogwarts; yet, as a precaution, she'd told McGonagall about the new broom Harry had mysteriously received._

 _There was a clear inconsistency in her actions here. Why hadn't she divulged Lupin's secret to a single soul, not even to Harry or Ron? Why was she covering for him? Because she didn't want him to be fired. Regardless of what he became every full moon, he was a more than capable teacher, and she also believed him to be a good man. His comforting words to her just now supported that belief. She wouldn't reveal his secret because she trusted him and wanted to protect him. And because she didn't want to see him leave…_

Remus _had_ ended up leaving. It wasn't until the summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts that Hermione had met him again at Grimmauld Place thanks to the rise of the Order of the Phoenix, and for the subsequent few years she'd seen him but only on occasion. But that had been okay then because she hadn't yet become aware of the nature of her feelings for him. All she'd known was that she liked it whenever he was around.

Then, at Harry's birthday party last month, something had changed. She'd felt uneasy as she'd watched Remus leave and now she understood why. The war had ended, the Order disbanded, and she'd had no idea when she'd meet him again. Surely Remus would want to keep in touch with Harry, but what about her? If he didn't take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts, when would she see him again?

And what if after their conversation at the Burrow he _had_ decided to take the D.A.D.A. post? Come tomorrow he would be her teacher once more and she his student, and she knew nothing romantic could happen between them then. She was sure there were rules against that sort of thing. But she supposed simply being around him at Hogwarts was better than not seeing him it all, wasn't it?

Hermione realized now that the rose, being sent to Remus in the past, had been a real blessing. Not only had she finally been able to acknowledge her true feelings for him, she'd been able to act on them. She'd tried to resist at first, but it had been useless. She'd been too strongly drawn to Remus. She had always been drawn to Remus.

Hermione mused over the quote she'd highlighted in Rumi's text: _Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray._ She decided she would live by these words. She would continue to allow herself to be silently drawn by Remus, come of it what may.

After reaching this resolution, Hermione at last managed to find some sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for your lovely reviews last chapter :)

Part two begins! I really hope you like what's to come, especially the parts from Remus's perspective since the rest of the story is as much about his journey to let himself "be silently drawn" as it is about Hermione's, if not more so.


	19. Chapter 19

Platform nine and three-quarters was packed with people. The hoots of disgruntled owls and cats' meows could be heard sporadically over the excited chatter of reunited friends, the admonishments of parents to their misbehaving children, and the tearful goodbyes between families separating for the upcoming school year. As usual, the scene was noisy and chaotic.

But when Harry Potter appeared on the platform, a reverent hush fell over the busy crowd. Everybody went still, staring at the young man who had brought about the downfall of the most dangerous wizard of all time, as he walked by with the Grangers and Weasleys.

"I should have worn the Invisibility Cloak," Harry muttered to Hermione.

"You can't hide under there for the rest of your life," she replied, though she understood the appeal in situations such as these. "Just don't mind them."

Easier said than done. Hermione didn't like all the attention she was receiving either. She and Ron had also gained some fame, being Harry's best friends and part of the "Golden Trio" that had taken down Voldemort. The Daily Prophet had depicted her as a heroine, describing her as the "clever and compassionate Muggle-born girl, whose quick-witted courage proved invaluable to Harry Potter in his journey, full of trials and tribulations, to defeat Lord Voldemort."

Fortunately, those on the platform at least pretended to go about their business and not watch Harry and the others say their goodbyes beside the Hogwarts Express.

"This year is going to be so strange without you two," Hermione told Harry and Ron as she gave them each an extra-long hug. "I'm going to miss you guys so much."

"Don't get all sappy on us, Hermione," Ron said, patting her awkwardly on the back. "We'll see you soon."

"Not until Christmas, and that's nearly four months away."

"We'll visit before then," Harry promised. "Even if we have to sneak our way into the castle to see you. Speaking of sneaking," he added in a lower voice so that her parents wouldn't overhear, "I think you should have this."

He pulled the Marauder's Map out of his pocket.

"Oh, Harry, I don't intend on doing any sneaking around. And you shouldn't either, by the way."

"Please, Hermione," he said, holding the map out to her. "Just in case you might need it."

"Fine," she acquiesced, taking the map after a slight hesitation. "Just in case."

Harry smiled. Hermione, however, was doing her best not to get tearful as she took a good long look at her two best friends, her brothers.

"Good luck with Auror training," she told them, "and take care of yourselves, all right?"

"Back at you."

"See you soon, then?"

"We'll miss you too, Hermione," Ron replied.

She gave them each another hug before turning to her parents.

"Is he here?" Mrs. Granger asked her, glancing around the platform. "I'd like to meet him."

"Is who here?" Mr. Granger wanted to know.

"Just a friend of Hermione's, dear."

"No, Mum, he's not here."

Her mother gave her a sympathetic look.

"Perhaps he's already on the train?" she suggested.

"Perhaps," Hermione said, though she knew he wouldn't be. She would only find out if he was returning to teach this year once she got to Hogwarts.

"Well, I hope he is and everything goes well between you two," Mrs. Granger said, hugging her daughter tightly. "Write to me, okay? Often."

"I will."

"Take care of yourself, Hermione," Mr. Granger said as he hugged her next. "And don't let any _friends_ distract you from your studies."

"I'll try not to, Dad," she said with a smile.

She hadn't realized until very recently, when she'd recounted to her parents a modified version of her journey with Harry and Ron to find and destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes, just how overprotective her father could be. Although Mr. Granger had been distressed to hear her describe some of the perilous situations she'd survived, he had still managed to also feel scandalized over the impropriety of his daughter living alone with two boys in a tent, however platonic her relationships with them were. He was probably glad she was returning to Hogwarts without them this year.

After saying their final goodbyes to their families, Hermione and Ginny boarded the Hogwarts Express. They waved a last farewell through the window as the scarlet steam engine began to move, and then they were whisked away, the platform and their loved ones falling out of sight.

Ginny turned from the window with a gloomy expression on her face.

"This summer was too short," she grumbled. "How am I supposed to go this entire year without Harry at Hogwarts?"

"I don't know, Ginny," Hermione said, thinking of Remus. Summer had been too long for her, and even now that school was starting up there was no guarantee she would see him anytime soon. "But you'll be together during the holidays, and he'll come visit if he can. It won't be so bad."

Ginny looked unconvinced. Hermione gave her friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving her to perform her first task as Head Girl.

"Hermione!" a voice called out from behind her just as she reached the prefects carriage. She turned around to see a fellow Gryffindor and friend making his way up the corridor towards her.

"Neville! I wasn't sure you'd be returning this year. So good to see you!"

"And you. I see you're Head Girl," he said, nodding at the badge on her chest. He grinned. "No shock there. Congratulations, Hermione."

"Thanks, I—" She broke off when she spotted his own badge. "Oh, but you're Head Boy!"

"Surprising, isn't it?"

"No, not at all. Congratulations, Neville! I'm glad it's you."

Hermione truly was glad. She couldn't imagine sharing the responsibility of her new role with anybody else but Neville. Together they proceeded into the prefects' carriage to instruct the new prefects on the duties they were expected to perform, and a short while after that they went off in search of Ginny. They found her chatting with Luna Lovegood in the last compartment at the back of the train.

The two younger witches congratulated Hermione and Neville on their Head Boy and Girl status, and after they had all settled down in their seats, Ginny told them, "Luna and I were just talking about how different it's going to be this year after everything that's happened. How do you think Hogwarts is going to look? The last time I was there it still looked pretty rough."

"It's in better condition than ever," Neville said. "Gran and I were just there a few weeks ago to help with the rebuilding efforts, but the castle didn't need much help from us or anybody else anymore."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. She had been with Ginny when the Weasleys had volunteered with the rebuilding efforts in July, and looking at all the damage done during the Battle of Hogwarts, she'd questioned whether the castle would be ready in time for the start of term.

"You didn't read about it in the Daily Prophet?" When the girls shook their heads, Neville told them, "Hogwarts has been repairing _itself_ these past few weeks. The castle completely took over the rebuilding efforts and has been mending itself with its own magic. Amazing, isn't it? And the Prophet says all the destruction from the battle only served to fortify the castle in the end because it's become even stronger than before."

"Like us," Luna said serenely.

The Ravenclaw had been through so much last year, being held for weeks as a prisoner in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, and despite the suffering she must have gone through, she'd endured. Luna looked the same to Hermione as she always did: wavy blonde hair, protuberant blue eyes, and she was even wearing her strange, signature pair of radish earrings. The dreamy quality in her expression had not been vanquished.

"Like us," Neville agreed. Hermione noted that he indeed looked stronger and more confident than ever. He bore little resemblance to the clumsy, frightened, round-faced boy he was at the age of eleven.

As the train traveled on through the countryside, the four friends shared with each other what they had done over the summer and what they were most looking forward to at Hogwarts. At one point, their conversation turned to speculation over who would be filling the open teaching positions that year. Hermione took the opportunity to voice the question that had preoccupied her so much the last few weeks.

"Do you think Lupin will come back?"

"I hope so. He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Neville proclaimed.

"Hagrid said McGonagall really wanted him for the job and insisted he take it," Ginny told the others. "I'm sure he'll be back."

Neville thought the same and Hermione felt hopeful — until Luna spoke.

"I'm not so sure," the Ravenclaw said dreamily. "He's still got a dubite. I could tell at Harry's birthday party over the summer."

Hermione, Ginny, and Neville all exchanged bemused looks.

"Um, what exactly is a dubite, Luna?" Ginny asked, looking like she was trying to hold back a smile. She probably expected an amusing answer from the girl many referred to as "Loony" because of her sometimes peculiar behavior and beliefs.

"It's a small, claw-shaped creature that latches itself onto a person's chest, right over his heart, and denies him from finding peace and happiness," Luna explained. "They're unpleasant little things, not very nice at all, but very powerful once they've gotten a hold on you."

"And you saw this creature on Lupin?" Neville asked with mingled humor and curiosity.

"No, they can't be seen while they're alive," Luna informed him, her eyes widening slightly as she shook her head. "But I sensed Lupin had one back in second year. I suppose he attracted it because he's a werewolf. Dubites like werewolves."

"Why do they like werewolves?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Werewolves have dual natures, and dubites feed on conflicted souls like theirs."

"And this dubite Lupin has — you think it will keep him from teaching this year?"

"It might," Luna said, appearing faintly surprised by the lack of usual skepticism in Hermione's tone. "Lupin obviously enjoys teaching, so the dubite will do whatever it can to prevent him from doing that and keep him in a conflicted state."

"Is there a way to get rid of this creature?"

"Oh, yes, there's a special potion that weakens the dubite's hold on you and poisons it. Then, when the dubite detaches from your chest and falls to the floor, black like tar, you have to stomp on it to make sure it's dead for good."

Ginny and Neville laughed as Luna demonstrated the proper manner in which to stomp on a dubite, but Hermione frowned as she watched her. She thought the Ravenclaw's description of the creature _(imaginary_ creature, of course) rather ominous. Although she had often disregarded Luna's unfounded and fantastical beliefs in the past, she now had more respect for the insight sometimes underlying her seemingly irrational ideas.

Hermione had caught glimpses of Remus's conflicted nature in the past, had perceived something like self-loathing in his eyes and in his voice when he'd spoken of his lycanthropy, and she knew he had strong doubts and reservations about taking the post at Hogwarts because of his affliction. He'd expressed them to her during their conversation at the Burrow on Harry's birthday, telling her he was the same werewolf who had put her and her friends in danger in her third year.

Would his fears regarding his lycanthropy really keep him from teaching? Would his doubts and conflicted nature really keep him from doing what made him happy?

* * *

A few hours later, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station and the students aboard shuffled their way off the train and onto the platform.

"All righ', Hermione?" Hagrid greeted cheerfully as she directed the first years toward him. She smiled and waved at him in response, happy to see the half-giant's friendly face again.

After making sure every student was safely off the train and in a thestral drawn carriage, Hermione and Neville climbed in one themselves. Moments later, all the carriages began to move in convoy up the road to Hogwarts. Hermione felt a flutter of nervous anticipation when they reached the gates to the school grounds and passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars. In only a few minutes she'd be seeing Remus — _if_ he'd decided to take up the D.A.D.A. post, that is.

Her excitement over seeing Remus again grew as the thestrals pulled them ever closer to Hogwarts and was only momentarily forgotten when the silhouette of the castle came into clearer view: a magnificent mass of turrets, deeper black than the night sky but with some patches of friendly, fiery light from its many windows.

"Wow, you were right, Neville," she said, gazing in awe at the impressive condition of the castle that had been so battle worn the last time she'd seen it. The structure was whole again now as far as she could tell, and as striking a sight as it had always been. "Hogwarts looks better than ever."

The thestrals landed by the stone steps leading to the doors of the castle and Hermione's nerves over seeing Remus again resurged. She hopped out of the carriage after Neville but quickly lost him among the throng of students hurrying up the steps and into the castle, eager to indulge in the scrumptious start-of-term feast. It wasn't until she noticed a few students lagging behind in the entrance hall instead of proceeding into the Great Hall that she remembered she was supposed to be supervising everyone.

She separated from the pack and headed toward the dawdling students. They were Gryffindors like her but younger, mischievous, and too smart-alecky for their own good. In no mood for their attitude, she sternly shepherded them into the Great Hall and followed behind them to the Gryffindor table. She cast quick glances toward the staff table as she went but, unfortunately, was unable to get a good look at all the teachers seated there.

When she'd seen to it that the mischievous Gryffindors had settled themselves down in their place, Hermione spotted Ginny further along on the bench and joined her. There at last she was able to properly examine the staff table before her. Her eyes skimmed over the faces of her familiar professors — McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout — and a few new ones, searching impatiently for the one she desperately longed to see.

But it wasn't there.

Her heart pounding anxiously, she scanned the table again, and then a third time, but still she couldn't find him. Her heart plummeted horribly — Remus wasn't there.

Hermione slumped in her seat, feeling strangely numb. If she'd had to bet on it before, she would've said that Remus would accept the Defense Against the Dark Arts post simply because she couldn't imagine what else he would want to do besides teach now that the Order was finished. But she would've been wrong. He wasn't here. She couldn't believe it.

The first years were filing into the Great Hall, about to be sorted, but Hermione couldn't care less. She was blind to them and deaf to the Sorting Hat's new song. She stared unseeingly at a yellowish glow of candles in the distance, trying to comprehend this. Luna had been right. The blasted dubite had prevailed. What was she going to do now? He wasn't here.

She should have sought him out before school had started, made up whatever excuse to meet him, to see if there was even the faintest glimmer of hope that what had developed between them in the past could be rekindled now. But she hadn't had the courage, and now it would be months before she'd have the chance to see him again, months of uncertainty and separation. If the last few weeks had felt terribly long without him, how would she get through the rest of the year?

Hermione felt a nudge on her arm, disrupting her from her gloomy thoughts and regrets.

"Look," Ginny whispered, her eyes alight with amusement. "That kid looks like he's going to hurl!"

Hermione turned her gaze to where the Weasley had pointed. A small, blond boy indeed looked like he was about to be sick as he stood there waiting to be sorted in front of the crowd presently applauding the Sorting Hat's new song. She watched blankly as the girl next to him whispered something in his ear that made the blond boy turn even greener.

"When I call your name—"

Hermione suddenly jolted to attention, her eyes snapping to the new speaker with the wonderfully familiar voice. There, standing with the first years before the staff table and holding a long roll of parchment, was a handsome man with graying hair, shabby robes, and gentle sage-green eyes. She had to stifle a gasp of surprise and emotion — he was here!

"—you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Remus said, his gaze sweeping over the line of first years and pausing on the nervous, blond boy. "Don't worry, if you're standing here tonight, it's because you belong at this school — the hat won't really suck out your brains if it realizes you're not magical enough."

Amidst the chuckles from the staff and older students, Remus gave his anxious, new pupil a reassuring smile. The blond boy merely grimaced in return. Hermione, meanwhile, was smiling, broadly, her spirits soaring higher than the night sky reflected above her in the enchanted ceiling. She thanked her lucky stars that Remus had returned and her heart feasted on the sight of him, overjoyed that he was here before her once again.

* * *

Remus Lupin greatly enjoyed watching the first years getting sorted. Some of them appeared downright terrified before trying on the old hat, which had miraculously survived the Battle of Hogwarts, and utterly relieved when they made their way to their new housemates and friends.

He fondly remembered when he had been in their position so many years ago. He'd been nervous too, of course, but also extremely excited to be there and to be starting school like the rest of the children his age. The next seven years had been the best of his life. He'd loved Hogwarts for its magic, for the incredible friends it gave him — friends he had hitherto lacked due to his condition — and also for the relative normalcy of which he had been previously deprived. He was eternally grateful to Dumbledore for giving him the privilege of that sorely yearned for experience. Certainly, no other Headmaster would have been so kind and generous as to allow a werewolf like him to enroll at his school.

Remus still loved Hogwarts very much and was delighted to return to its familiar halls once more as a teacher. He had never desired to be anything else, and his yearlong stint of teaching a while back had only served as a terrible tease, a promising taste of the opportunity for a more productive and fulfilling life that had only been taken away by his cursed circumstance. But he was here again now and he didn't plan on leaving a second time.

"And it is with great pleasure," said McGonagall, "that I welcome back Professor Lupin, who has returned to the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and who will also be the new Head of House for Gryffindor."

Remus was humbled by the enthusiastic applause at his introduction, the most boisterous of cheers coming from the students at the Gryffindor table, one of whom was a clever young witch with a distinctive mane of brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. His gaze met with Hermione Granger's and she beamed at him as she applauded. Remus returned the smile.

Yes, he was glad to be back.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** It feels like forever since I last updated… So sorry for the long wait, but here it is! I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

Hermione's professors made it very clear that this year would be a difficult one for the seventh years, and if the amount of homework they'd assigned so far this first week of term were anything to go by, it seemed it certainly would be. But while many of her classmates were groaning over their heavy workload and dreading the busy times ahead, Hermione couldn't have been happier. Especially on the morning before her first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. Her elation did not go unnoticed.

"Wow, Hermione. You're positively radiant," Ginny said at breakfast, staring at her in disbelief. "How can you be this excited about school?"

Her excitement had less to do with school and everything to do with the prospect of staying behind after D.A.D.A. class later to speak with Remus for the first time since her time traveling adventure and to tell him how glad she was he'd returned to Hogwarts, but she told her friend, "Well, after last year, of course I'm excited to be at school again! Aren't you?"

"I suppose," Ginny said rather unenthusiastically, and Hermione knew she was probably thinking about being apart from Harry.

"It's fun that you and I have classes together now, anyway," Hermione said to distract her. For lessons this year, the members from her class who had decided to return to Hogwarts to finish or repeat their seventh year were being grouped together with Ginny's.

"Yeah, it is," Ginny agreed, her face lighting up. "I'm finally getting to see firsthand what Ron has been teasing you about all these years."

The youngest Weasley certainly was able to witness Hermione in her element during Transfiguration, their first class that day. Ginny grinned at her friend when her practiced hand shot high into the air before their new teacher, Professor Avila, a petite, dark-haired woman who gave an austere and haughty impression, even finished stating her first question. Hermione did this repeatedly throughout the lesson, and by the end of class Professor Avila actually appeared annoyed rather than impressed by her clever new student. She gave the Head Girl a coldly assessing look-over as she walked out the door, which momentarily disconcerted Hermione.

"I must say I appreciate Ron's imitations of you so much more now," Ginny laughed good-naturedly out in the corridor.

"I'm not _that_ bad," Hermione said, though she knew she probably was.

The girls headed toward their next class, Hermione with butterflies in her belly, her anticipation swelling with every step. But when they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, they found Remus hadn't yet arrived. The door was open, though, so they and the rest of their classmates filed into the room, chattering away and claiming their preferred seats, Hermione and Ginny choosing a desk near the front of the room. They joined in conversation with their friends, but their chatter quickly died down as their professor entered the classroom not a minute later.

"Good morning," Remus greeted, and Hermione sat up straighter in her seat, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she watched him lay his tattered briefcase on the teacher's desk before her.

"Good morning, Professor Lupin," the class replied as one.

Remus's pleasant gaze swept over his students.

"You can put that away for now, Dean," he said to the Gryffindor, who had his wand out hopefully for a practical lesson. "You will need it later, I assure you, but first…"

Remus began to lecture and Hermione was grateful for the excuse to stare at him unabashedly. Wanting to make up for lost time, she eagerly took in the appearance of the older version of the young man she'd dated in the past, appreciating every detail of his lined but still handsome face, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the way his lips moved when he spoke.

He slowly paced back and forth along the front of the room as he addressed his students and she followed his lean form, his every movement. But when he briefly leaned against the teacher's desk, her gaze transferred to it instead, a vivid memory springing to mind. She and Remus had once been kissing passionately upon that very same desk…

Ginny elbowed her hard in the ribs. Startled, Hermione's gaze snapped to her friend, then whirled to where the redhead pointedly glanced. To her horror she found Remus looking at her expectantly.

"Hermione?" he repeated, and her face turned a brilliant shade of pink. He had obviously just asked her a question, counting on her ever reliable preparedness and participation, but she had been so distracted by the memory of kissing him that she'd failed to hear it.

"I — um — I don't know, Remus," she spluttered, feeling utterly disorientated. "I mean, _Professor,"_ she quickly corrected. She could feel her classmates gawking at her and heard a general murmur of gleeful surprise: Hermione "Miss Know-It-All" Granger didn't know the answer? It was unprecedented.

Remus frowned at her slightly and cast a curious glance at his desk before calling on Neville.

Hermione mentally thanked her friend for raising his hand and diverting the attention from her. She was mortified by her wayward thoughts. Ginny gave her a questioning look but Hermione carefully avoided her eyes.

For the rest of the class period, she had to work unusually hard to stay focused on the subject at hand and keep herself from succumbing to the memory of being with Remus. Too self-conscious now to stay after class like she had planned, she left in a hurry when the bell rang instead, hoping she wouldn't completely embarrass herself again next lesson.

* * *

The first week of term passed by in a busy blur for Remus, and before he knew it Sunday evening had arrived. He sat at the table in his living quarters at Hogwarts, idly swishing around the potion in his goblet, his mind wandering once again to his work. He was settling back comfortably into his old role as teacher and felt his lessons so far had gone fairly well. He only wished the full moon didn't have to come this particular weekend. He would have to miss class tomorrow and he hated to do so this soon after school had started. But it wasn't really up to him. He was simply a slave to the phases of the moon.

The bitter thought seemed to strengthen the acrid taste of the Wolfsbane Potion Professor Slughorn had brewed for him, and he had to force down the final few sips in his goblet. The potion tasted truly disgusting, but he was extremely grateful for it for alleviating some of the symptoms of his lycanthropy and helping him to keep his mind when he transformed. When he changed tonight, he would become something like a sleepy and ordinary wolf rather than the ravenous werewolf he usually became. Also, it was only thanks to this potion that he was allowed to teach here at Hogwarts. To the displeasure of many.

The fact that he'd returned as a professor had not been received well by everyone. Many parents and members of the wizarding community were outraged that a known werewolf was teaching their children, and a fair few of them had written letters to McGonagall, and to him personally, emphatically expressing their opinions on the matter. Remus understood their concern for the safety of their children, but he also knew that he posed no real danger to anyone so long as he was responsible about taking his Wolfsbane Potion when he was supposed to (not forgetting like he had that fateful night the last time he'd taught at Hogwarts, when the truth about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had been revealed), the only condition with which McGonagall had offered him his position.

Remus was extremely grateful and touched by the Headmistress's faith in him. She had expressed deep respect and the utmost confidence in him as a teacher during her attempts over the summer to convince him to return to his old post. She had also explained to him that he, as a werewolf already at least somewhat respected by many for his role in the Order of the Phoenix and Second Wizarding War, was in a unique position and had a certain responsibility to accept the job she offered so that he could help shift the public perception of his kind to something more favorable.

The vast majority of the wizarding world viewed people like him only as vicious creatures to be feared and shunned — understandable considering the examples set by notorious werewolves such as Fenrir Greyback. McGonagall hoped, however, that Remus would be able to combat some of the negative conceptions of his kind and provide a positive model as to how werewolves could safely integrate with and constructively contribute to the wizarding community if given the chance.

But would he be able to make any difference at all? He stared at the angry letters of disapproval on his table, remembered the wary whispers from some of his students the last few days… Could he possibly be able to help ease some the prejudice against his kind?

There was no use worrying about this now. Remus put aside the troubled thoughts that would only make his transformation worse and prepared himself for the full moon which would soon rise. Shortly after double-checking that the doors to his office, living quarters, and then bedroom were locked and secure with magic, he sensed his transformation coming on.

His body suddenly went rigid, but he felt something deep inside him stirring, shifting, tearing at him internally — a creature almost literally clawing its way out of its cage. He began to shake and staggered, overwhelmed with pure agony from the physical changes contorting him. Fur was sprouting all over his skin as his bones and his body lengthened, contracted, restructured, and he fell forward onto his front paws — a werewolf, reeling momentarily from the intensity of the transformation.

Bloodthirsty, animalistic urges coursed through him. But they were muted. He was groggy. He circled around, whining a bit, then curled up on an old blanket next to his bed. Covering his face with one of his paws, he tried for some sleep.

* * *

Hermione noted with concern Remus's tired eyes and pallid complexion during class on Tuesday. The full moon had just passed and her professor looked spent. She wanted to stay and talk to him after their lesson and make sure he was okay — she still hadn't had a chance to speak with him since arriving to Hogwarts, or rather, she still hadn't worked up enough courage to do so — but Ginny dragged her out of the classroom as soon as the bell dismissed them.

"What's going on? Why are you in such a hurry?" Hermione asked.

"Dean," Ginny said, glancing back over her shoulder. "I didn't want him to try to corner me again."

"Again? When did he corner you before?"

"Yesterday, after dinner. He congratulated me on being made Quidditch Captain and asked me when I'd be holding tryouts. But he… he also said some things. I think he wants to try to get back together with me."

"But you're with Harry."

"That's what I told him. But I think he thinks that since Harry's not here he might have a shot, and I'm afraid if he makes the team…it might make things a bit awkward."

"Ginny, I think you should—"

Hermione broke off when she heard Remus's name being hissed by a pair of fifth year Ravenclaws ahead of them in the corridor.

"…looked terrible, like he's had a rough few nights," the male Ravenclaw said. "And how do we know for sure what he's up to when he changes? How do we know he isn't sneaking off and attacking people? He _is_ a werewolf and that's what they do, right? They want to turn people into horrid beasts like themselves so they can gather numbers and overtake us. I can't believe they're letting animals like that teach here. They should—"

What they should do, Hermione never found out because without even thinking or being aware of her actions in any way, she cursed the boy speaking ill of Remus.

The Ravenclaw bellowed out in pain, collapsing to the floor and clutching his chest. His female companion glanced around in confusion, then gaped at Hermione in shock and anger when she spotted her raised wand.

"What in Merlin's name…?" Professor Avila exclaimed as she came running out of a nearby classroom to survey the scene.

"She attacked him!" the Ravenclaw girl cried, glaring at Hermione incredulously as she knelt down next to her friend.

Professor Avila whipped around to face Hermione as well. "Of course! It had to be you, _Miss Granger_ ," the older witch spat, regarding her student antagonistically.

"He was making very disrespectful remarks about Professor Lupin," Ginny explained while Hermione stared with wide eyes at the boy she'd hurt.

"That does not give her the right to attack him!" Professor Avila replied severely. "I don't believe this. Detention, Miss Granger!"

"But Professor—"

"I don't want to hear it, Miss Weasley." Professor Avila waved her hand dismissively at Ginny and focused her beady eyes on Hermione. "Being Head Girl does not put you above the rules. I plan on taking this to the Headmistress. Maybe she can put an end to your abuse of power."

The Transfiguration teacher sent the Gryffindor girls away as she took care of the Ravenclaws, and Hermione walked numbly down toward the Great Hall with Ginny, who said indignantly, "What's her deal? Giving you detention without even letting you explain properly? That guy had it coming to him for talking about Lupin like that!"

"Professor Avila was right to give me detention," Hermione said quietly, unable to believe what she'd just done. What had gotten into her? Harry was the short-tempered and impulsive one, not her. She normally kept a cool head in these sorts of situations. But she'd reacted instinctively, angered to hear somebody speak that way about Remus.

"Maybe, but she definitely overreacted with the whole 'abuse of power' thing. And did you see how quickly she rounded on you?"

Hermione had indeed noticed that, and she also remembered the cold look Professor Avila had given her at the end of their first Transfiguration lesson, and a couple of times since then. She didn't understand what she'd done to get off to such a bad start with her new teacher, or how she'd gotten off to such a horrible start in general this year. First, she'd made a fool of herself in front of Remus and the rest of her class with that incident in Defense Against the Dark Arts last week, and now, only a few days into term, she'd landed herself in detention. Even worse, she had detention and she was _Head Girl_ — the Head Girl wasn't supposed to get into trouble, she was supposed to be a model student! She was setting a very poor example so far.

The only positive she could come up with when she received a note later informing her of her detention time and place (Friday evening, Transfiguration classroom) was that she'd have a chance to talk to Professor Avila one on one, figure out what she'd done to get in her bad books, and hopefully start fresh with her. Still, over the next few days, Hermione couldn't help but dread her upcoming detention, which had annoyingly complicated her carefully planned study schedule, and wonder exactly what Professor Avila had in mind for her punishment. She remembered Ron once having to clean the bedpans in the Hospital Wing without using magic — she would very much prefer something like writing lines.

When Friday evening finally came around, Hermione, hoping for anything other than bedpans, made her way to the Transfiguration classroom ready to face Professor Avila and whatever unpleasant task she would have to do.

"Professor Avila—?" she started, stepping into the room then stopping dead in her tracks.

"Good evening, Hermione."

Glancing up at her from his seat at the teacher's desk was Remus.

Hermione blinked, feeling unnervingly disoriented again. What was he doing here? Or had she stumbled to the wrong place, her heart subconsciously leading her feet to his classroom instead of the Transfiguration one? She hastily looked around. No, this was the right room.

"Good evening," she replied tentatively. "I'm supposed to meet Professor Avila…"

"Professor Avila had an urgent matter to attend to," Remus informed her, setting aside the note he'd been reading. "I offered to oversee your detention in her place."

"Oh" was all Hermione could think of to say.

"You can take a seat if you like," he said, motioning toward the desk before his.

Realizing she was still standing uncertainly near the doorway, Hermione went and slipped into the seat he'd indicated.

Remus hesitated before speaking again. "Actually, I wanted to speak with you, Hermione. I heard about what happened, why you got into trouble. I know it was because of me."

"That boy was being disrespectful," she said quietly.

"He's only one of many who don't like that I'm here—"

"But there are also a lot of people who _do_ like that you're here," she swiftly pointed out.

"Nonetheless, those who don't have valid viewpoints."

"I don't think they do. You're not really a danger to anyone while taking Wolfsbane Potion, and the way that boy was speaking…he was _terribly_ misinformed about werewolves. And about you. And it just isn't right! People shouldn't be so prejudiced and so — so ignorant!" she finished vehemently.

Remus studied her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You are truly extraordinary," he said after a moment, and faint blush rose to Hermione's cheeks. "You, Harry, and Ron have a peculiar propensity to befriend and defend those whom most of the wizarding world would reject or deem inferior: giants, house-elves, werewolves…"

"I think it's the rest of the world that's peculiar."

"Maybe so. Still, you shouldn't be cursing people in the corridors because of that. I appreciate you wanting to defend me, Hermione, but don't get yourself into trouble on my account, all right?"

"All right."

Remus picked up the piece of parchment he'd set aside earlier.

"Well, I suppose…" he said slowly, contemplating the note, "I suppose I'll let you go then. So you can enjoy the rest of your evening."

Hermione frowned as he grabbed a quill and scribbled something on the parchment. "What about my detention?"

"I'm cutting it short."

"Cutting it short?" she repeated with disappointment. After being unable to have a word with him all term, besides her uncharacteristic blunders in his class, she was finally alone with Remus and wanted to be in his company for as long as she could. "But… but Professor Avila would probably want… I mean, I _did_ break the rules and I should probably serve the detention she…" Hermione trailed off, realizing it must be odd for a student to request a lengthier detention time.

"I admire your respect for the rules," Remus said with a small smile, "but the task Professor Avila assigned for you tonight is tedious, rather unpleasant, and I think unnecessary. I believe the disruption this detention caused to your study schedule is probably punishment enough for you. So you're free to go. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you'd rather be doing and I have a few matters to take care of as well."

Hermione couldn't think of anything else she'd rather do or anywhere else she'd rather be than right here with him, but he gathered his things and made to leave and she followed suit, not wanting to keep him from whatever he needed to do.

"Enjoy your weekend, Hermione," he said, holding the classroom door open for her.

Hermione paused as she passed him on the threshold. Peering up at her professor, she found he was somehow more attractive now than he'd been as a young man, age and the confidence that came along with it serving him well. Yet although his physical appearance had changed a bit with maturity — his hair graying, his face becoming lined — the look in his eyes was nearly the same as it had been in the past. She wondered, her glance sliding down to his lips against her will, if his kiss would feel the same…

"Everything all right?" he asked, and Hermione blinked.

"Oh — um, yes, everything's fine," she said, flushing as she realized she and her gaze on him had lingered far too long. "Er — enjoy your weekend as well."

They parted ways, Hermione reluctantly taking off down the corridor in the opposite direction as her professor.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for the follows and faves, and a special thank you to each of you lovely reviewers! I really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts!


	21. Chapter 21

Remus was making his rounds Tuesday morning, observing his class as they practiced deflecting spells nonverbally. At least, this was the task in theory. Many of his students, however, were unable to practice this vital skill because their partners were having a hard time nonverbally jinxing them. Those who had yet to master the ability to do silent spellwork were screwing up their faces in great concentration and tightly pressing their lips together to resist the temptation to utter the incantation aloud. Some in frustration settled for surreptitiously whispering the jinx under their breath.

In other circumstances, Remus might have been entertained by some of the rather comical attempts he witnessed and the funny faces being pulled by his students in their efforts. But right now he was too distracted by a certain distressing matter.

Hermione looked suddenly nervous when he paused beside her to watch her practice, and the spell she cast somehow ended up missing her partner, Ginny, completely and hitting the portrait behind the redhead instead. The portrait wobbled wickedly and flew off the wall, bumping the back of Ginny's head as it crashed to the floor.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione exclaimed, her hands shooting up to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Ginny!"

"Are you all right?" Remus asked the Weasley in concern.

"I'm fine, Professor," she replied, rubbing her head but looking surprisingly amused. "What was _that_?" she asked Hermione.

"I — I don't know," Hermione said, her face pink and her eyes avoiding his. "I just — I'm sorry. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

With a wave of his wand, Remus returned the portrait to its place and then asked Hermione to try again. "Remember to maintain your focus and keep your wand movement fluid and precise."

She did and performed the spell successfully this time, though a bit tentatively, making it easy for Ginny to repel her jinx with a spoken incantation.

"Nicely done, Ginny, but we're working on _non_ verbal deflection, you know," Remus reminded her with a faint smile.

She grinned. "Sorry, Professor. I'm working on it."

"That was much better," he added to Hermione, but he knew as well as she did that she was capable of a lot better than that. He'd seen her cast spells nonverbally before, and not just in the classroom but bravely and brilliantly in real battles, in real life-or-death situations. Her only problem right now was her nerves. But why was she so nervous?

As he made his way over to a nearby pair of students, he heard Ginny ask, "What's up with you, Hermione? You were doing great a minute ago."

Remus didn't hear the Head Girl's response but was nevertheless troubled by what he sensed from her.

When he was alone in the room after class, Remus sat at his desk, twirling his wand absentmindedly in his hand as he thought about Hermione and the predicament in which he now found himself. Actually, it was a predicament he himself had foolishly signed up for. He'd known full well before accepting the post that becoming a professor at Hogwarts this particular year would mean putting himself in this position. Even though he'd been aware of the situation for a good while before taking the job, he'd still chosen to return and a small part of him regretted this decision every time he observed Hermione during lessons. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle the problem before him appropriately. He wasn't sure how this yearlong struggle would end: would he fail or succeed at getting his students back on track?

Considering the annual change of teacher — some less qualified than others — and the previous year's drastic dropping of the "defense" part of the class and emphasis on the "Dark Arts" bit, it was unsurprising really that the students at Hogwarts were woefully behind in his subject. To his dismay, even Hermione, the top student, appeared to be having some difficulty. She lacked her normal confidence in class and seemed unsure in her abilities whenever he watched her practice. Which was a direct reflection of him and the job he was doing. Though he'd carefully constructed his lesson plans to get his pupils up to par as well as he could, he worried it wasn't enough for the fifth and seventh years who would be taking their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s this year. He simply did not have the class time necessary to prepare his students properly, or at least not as well as he'd like to.

Remus brought up his concern to McGonagall in the staffroom that afternoon. The Headmistress heaved a tired sigh.

"I realize your subject was the most impacted by the events that took place last year, but it just isn't possible to add another hour of class to the students' schedules," she told him regretfully. "They're overwhelmed as it is."

"What if instead of adding another class session, we form a sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts club?" Remus suggested on a whim of inspiration. "That way attendance wouldn't be mandatory and students could come only when they have the time to get in some extra practice."

"That's an idea," McGonagall said slowly, thoughtfully. "But it would mean more work for you." She gave him an inquiring look. "Are you up for it, Remus? I know you already have your hands full."

He certainly did, but he had to do what was in the best interest of his students — even if it did cut into his already limited leisure time.

* * *

A dull thud momentarily disturbed the quiet in the library as Hermione slammed her book shut, unable to find anything that could tell her more than Dumbledore had about the rose Remus had given her (like how exactly its magic worked). She suspected its magic was a form of old magic, but she'd found nothing that could confirm this because she'd found no mention of a rose like hers, or any object of similar nature, in any of the books she'd looked through. All her research so far had been fruitless.

So she pushed the book aside and turned her attention to her essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts instead, giving it one more look to make sure it was absolutely perfect. She wanted to do well in her homework at least to make up for her poor performance in class.

She wished Remus didn't make her so nervous. She now sympathized much more with the way Ginny had felt about Harry a few years back. Ginny had been so intimidated by the older, rather impressive boy and had felt so overwhelmed by the strength of her feelings for him that for the longest time she'd been unable to speak in his presence. Hermione thought about the advice she'd given her friend: try to relax a bit and be yourself, and then maybe he'll take more notice of you.

Hermione knew she should follow her own advice now and act more naturally around Remus. He was probably wondering what happened to the girl he'd once called the cleverest witch of her age he'd ever met, because all he was noticing of her at the moment was how strangely she was acting in class.

But despite her awkward moments around him, Hermione wished for more time with him. Although she was extremely happy that they were both here at Hogwarts, she was also immensely frustrated by the distance created between them due to his being a professor and she his student. It wasn't as if she could just hang out with him in the library or the Gryffindor common room after classes like she used to when they were peers, or even strike up a casual conversation with him if it wasn't school-related.

Well, she supposed she could. She, Harry, and Ron had always been friendly with Hagrid, often visiting him at his hut on the school grounds. But it was different with Remus. She'd never been friends with the adult Remus the way Harry was, the way she'd been friends with the teenage Remus in the past. She wished things could be the way they were then. She wanted to be able to speak to Remus, to spend time alone with him, to _be_ with him, but that seemed impossible under the current circumstances.

Hermione sighed, wishing Remus's memory had never been Obliviated, wishing he could remember the feelings that had developed between them in the past. Everything would be so much easier if only he remembered…

Or maybe it wouldn't.

If Remus were to somehow learn of their relationship in the past, how would he feel about it now? Part of Hermione still feared what she'd feared after they'd shared their first kiss, that he — her reserved, proper, and gentlemanly professor — would disapprove of their romance in his youth, that he'd be embarrassed and ashamed that his younger self had had feelings for her — his much younger student — and be angry that she'd kept him in the dark about the true nature of their situation. She'd never confessed to the younger Remus that she'd time-traveled and that they knew each other in his future, never made sure he was okay with that, and part of her still felt guilty for it.

But her guilt didn't really matter anymore. It was already done, and he didn't remember their past together and never would. So she should focus on the present.

Dumbledore had believed Remus had unacknowledged feelings for her in this time. He hadn't shown any so far, but if she could just find a way (and the nerve) to get closer to her Defense professor, maybe she could figure out whether Dumbledore was right, whether there was indeed a possibility between her and Remus now after all.

* * *

"I'm already falling behind in all my classes," Neville said wearily at breakfast Thursday morning. "All the homework we're being assigned this year…how are we supposed to keep up?"

"Tell me about it," Ginny said. She stabbed at a piece of sausage with her fork. "I'll barely have the time to eat or sleep properly now that Quidditch is starting up. I don't know if I'll even have time for Defense Club."

"What Defense Club?" Hermione asked.

"Didn't you see the notice board in the entrance hall? There's a sign-up sheet for a Defense Against the Dark Arts club. It's recommended for fifth and seventh years, you know, because of our O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. I expect it's for us to get more practice."

"Professor Lupin is going to run it," added Luna, who'd wandered over from the Ravenclaw table to sit with them today.

"That's great!" Hermione said — a little too enthusiastically. Her friends stared at her and she tried to tone it down a bit. "It's good that we'll have an opportunity for more practice. We need as much preparation as we can get for our N.E.W.T.s., especially in Defense."

"I'm very excited, too," Luna said. "Maybe it'll be like the D.A."

"First meeting is next Friday," Neville told Hermione. "You need to sign up before then."

Hermione wasted no time. As soon as she finished her toast, she added her name to the list of students interested in the Defense Club, grateful for this unexpected chance for more class time with Remus.

Another surprise awaited her after lessons that day: a note summoning her to the Headmistress's office. Hermione's uplifted mood dampened a bit. She had a feeling this had something to do with her getting into trouble last week. Was McGonagall about to reprimand her for landing herself in detention? Was she going to tell her she was setting a bad example as Head Girl?

By the time Hermione knocked on McGonagall's door, she was convinced the Headmistress was going to strip her of her badge. So, when she entered the office, she was a bit thrown by the pleasant greeting from her ex-Transfiguration teacher and even more so to see Remus sitting across the desk from her.

"You're not in trouble," McGonagall reassured the anxious-looking Hermione, who took a seat next to her D.A.D.A. professor. The older witch then asked Remus, "Why is it that students always think they're in trouble when they're summoned to my office?"

"Well, from my personal experience," Remus said, "it's because I nearly always _was._ "

The corners of McGonagall's mouth twitched up. "With the company you kept, I'm surprised I didn't see you in my office more often. But neither of you is in any trouble this time. I called you in here to discuss a different matter. As I was just telling you, Remus, the Defense Against the Dark Arts club has already garnered a lot more interest than we'd anticipated. Since we put the notice up this morning, the majority of the fifth and seventh years have already signed up. I thought, with that many students, you could do with an assistant."

McGonagall looked at Hermione, who said in surprise, "Me?"

The Headmistress smiled. "Yes, you, Miss Granger. After all, you're best in your class in this subject and you've had plenty of practice fighting the Dark Arts. What do you think, Remus?"

"I could definitely use the assistance," he said, looking thoughtfully at Hermione. "And I think the students would respond really well to being instructed by a fellow classmate, especially one with Hermione's experience."

McGonagall agreed. "A bit reminiscent of Dumbledore's Army, a student-run organization — but this would be minus the rebellious aspect, of course. What do you think, Miss Granger? I know you're probably up to your ears in homework, and you do have all your responsibilities as Head Girl, but—"

"I'll do it," Hermione said at once. She certainly didn't have to be sold on the idea of working alongside Remus.

"You will?"

"Yes, I'd love to. I think this club is a great idea."

"Excellent," McGonagall said, clasping her hands together in satisfaction. "Remus, I'll leave it to you to fill Miss Granger in on your plans for the club and how she can assist you?" He nodded and McGonagall turned her gaze back to Hermione. "Thank you, Miss Granger, for obliging us in this. We need all the help we can get after the tyranny of the Carrows last year."

"It's my pleasure, really," Hermione said honestly.

A quiet chuckle sounded within the room. McGonagall swiveled her chair around, revealing the portrait on the wall that had been half hidden behind her, and twinkling blue eyes met with Hermione's. She blushed under Dumbledore's knowing gaze. He knew exactly why she was so willing to assist Remus. He was the only one who knew about her feelings for her professor, the only one besides herself who knew they had dated in the past.

"What's the jest, Albus?" McGonagall wanted to know.

"No jest, Minerva. I simply remembered a wonderful riddle about a rose," Dumbledore's portrait replied genially. "Miss Granger knows the one. Have you unraveled it yet, may I ask?"

Was he asking her about the status of her relationship with Remus? "No, sir. Not quite," she answered, very aware that Remus and McGonagall were looking between her and the ex-Headmaster curiously.

"All in good time," Dumbledore assured her. "Keep at it and you will see the resolution is worth the wait."

Before anything else could be said, there was a knock at the door.

McGonagall glanced at her watch. "Ah, that must be Filius."

"We'll get out of your way, then," Remus said.

He and Hermione left the office together, passing Professor Flitwick on their way out.

As they started down to the Great Hall for dinner, Remus said to Hermione, "I know you must be very busy already, but this shouldn't take up too much of your time. The club will only meet once a week for an hour, every Friday starting next week."

"What exactly will we be doing at these meetings?" Hermione asked, trying to ignore the familiar butterflies swooping in her stomach as she walked beside her professor, unexpectedly alone with him for the second time this term. "I know the purpose is to prepare us for our O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, but will we only be focusing on mastering the new material we learn in class that week, or will the approach be more cumulative, practicing spells and reviewing theories we've covered in previous years as well?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure exactly. The idea for this club is still very new…" Remus fell into a contemplative silence, and she took advantage of the opportunity to sneak glances at him. "I think it's best to take the cumulative approach," he said after a while. "I think we should focus primarily on preparing for the practical portion of the exams, practicing counter-jinxes and defensive spells… But I suppose we should also devote some time to answering any questions students might have on theories and topics I cover in lecture, because some students struggle more with the written part of the exams..."

"And what can I do for you?" Her choice of words combined with her unintentionally coy tone sounded rather suggestive to Hermione's ears, and she hurriedly rephrased her question. "I mean, how will I be assisting you?"

Remus seemed not to have noticed anything improper. "You can help me do demonstrations, and also help in observing everyone as they practice, tweaking their techniques when need be. Perhaps I'll put you in charge of the fifth years while I work with the seventh years…" He went quiet again for a few moments before saying, "I think you and I should meet up sometime next week, when I have a clearer game plan, and we can discuss what we'll be doing on Friday."

"I have a free period Wednesday afternoon," Hermione suggested.

"Perfect. I do as well." Remus flashed her a smile as they reached the Great Hall. "I'll see you then, Hermione."

"Yes," she said delightedly, watching him stride off toward the staff table. "Looking forward to it."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** A few reminders since these characters will be making appearances soon: in this story Fred and Tonks are still alive, nothing romantic ever happened between Remus and Tonks, and Hermione and Ron dated briefly in their sixth year before deciding they were better off as friends.

* * *

"SURPRISE!"

Hermione jumped at the roar of noise that greeted her upon entering Hagrid's hut. "Merlin's beard!" she cried, and everyone in the room laughed.

"We got you!" Ginny grinned as she stepped into the hut behind her.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack is what you did." Hermione had thought that she and Ginny were just going to have lunch with Hagrid this Saturday afternoon. She hadn't expected to find a small party of her closest friends waiting for her in his home. She beamed at Hagrid, Luna, and Neville, and her heart fluttered at the sight of Remus, but she addressed Harry and Ron. "You told me I wouldn't see you until Hogsmeade weekend, you didn't say you were coming _today_."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Part of the surprise, obviously." He smiled and came in for a hug. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

"You didn't sneak onto the grounds, did you?" Hermione asked Harry when she hugged him next. She distinctly remembered him telling her he would when they'd said their goodbyes on platform nine and three-quarters.

"Of course not." She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and Harry raised his hands and eyebrows in innocence. "Honest. McGonagall gave us permission. She sends you birthday wishes, by the way."

Hermione glanced around the room, taking in the purple and silver streamers and balloons, and the buffet on Hagrid's table. "Wow, you guys didn't have to do all this."

"Just a bit o' decoratin' an' some food." Hagrid's eyes crinkled at her affectionately and his beard twitched into what she knew was a smile. "Wanted to do summat nice fer yer special day."

"Well, thank you, all of you, really."

It was a bit of a tight squeeze with the eight of them in Hagrid's small wooden house, but Hermione and her friends didn't care. They piled food high onto their plates and settled themselves around the table as best as they could.

As they began to dig into their lunch, Ginny pointed out to Hermione the stack of presents for her and asked, "Was the rose in your dormitory a birthday gift?"

Hermione nearly choked on her bite of salad. "Rose? What rose?" she said, though she knew exactly what rose Ginny was talking about and wished she hadn't decided to bring this up right now in front of Remus and the others — she certainly couldn't tell them all the truth.

"The pretty red rose I saw on your nightstand earlier. Who gave it to you? Was it a boy?"

"No, I — I picked it myself."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at her like she herself had done to Harry earlier. "Why are you blushing, then? It _was_ from a boy, wasn't it? Who?"

Hermione carefully avoided glancing nervously at Remus. He wouldn't suspect it was the same rose he'd given her, would he? If not for its magic, that rose would have shriveled up and died a long time ago.

"Nobody," she told Ginny. "I told you, I picked it myself when I went on a walk—"

"I don't believe you. Ooh, was it from that guy from Ravenclaw? Sebastian? I'm pretty sure he has a crush on you."

Hermione was about to deny this when Harry, who looked just as amused as Ginny by this conversation, suggested, "Maybe it was from a secret admirer."

"Don't tell me it was from Krum," Ron said, adding to the speculation. He smirked. "Are you two still writing those novel-length letters to each other?"

"That's none of your business, Ronald," Hermione snapped.

"If you are, maybe you could ask him for tickets to Quidditch matches instead of roses—"

"Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Not until we solve this rose mystery," Ginny persisted.

"Does this rose have anything to do with the riddle Dumbledore mentioned?" Remus asked suddenly, looking at her very curiously, and her heart skipped a beat.

"What riddle?" asked Ron, confused.

"I heard a riddle about a rose once," Luna chimed in dreamily before Hermione could think of how to respond. "I don't remember what the wizard who wrote it was called, but it went something like, 'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

"That's not a riddle, that's Shakespeare," Harry told her. Then he frowned. "Wait a minute, was Shakespeare a wizard?"

"I think he was," Neville said at the same time Hagrid claimed, "Nah, he was a Muggle."

A rather entertaining debate over Shakespeare ensued (it was concluded that he may have been a Squib), and, to Hermione's tremendous relief, their conversation did not return to her rose or the riddle afterward. She didn't know whether Luna, upon seeing her discomfort, had purposely deflected the attention from her but was grateful to her nonetheless for steering the conversation elsewhere. She didn't know how she would have explained the riddle to Remus.

Hermione looked over at him as she picked at her food. His curiosity over the riddle had completely gone and he now seemed much more interested in catching up with Harry than in talking to her…

"Is it as tough as you'd thought it would be?" he asked Harry and Ron regarding their Auror training.

The two boys shared a look between them that plainly spelled that it was.

"It's not all about learning how to duel and mastering concealment spells," Ron said between mouthfuls of food. "You're also tested on things like intellectual capacity, emotional stability, strategic abilities and tactics… Don't know what's harder: the magic bit or the mental part."

"But Tonks and this Auror named Jackson are helping us out a lot," Harry told them. "They're our mentors."

"Have you guys gone on any missions yet?" Neville asked. "Have you helped catch any of the Death Eaters that have eluded capture since the war?"

"I haven't," Ron said, helping himself to another sandwich. "But Tonks told me I might get to soon. Aurors are in short supply since the war and they need numbers, so some of the trainees help out sometimes. Harry and Elena got to go on a mission with Jackson last week, following up on a tip that a Death Eater was hiding out somewhere north."

Neville grabbed another sandwich as well. "Who's Elena?"

A dreamy expression crossed Ron's face, and he momentarily forgot about the food he'd been wolfing down. "She's the hot, smart, and a wicked duelist who's in training with us. Wouldn't have minded going on an overnight mission with her."

Ginny's fork went still on her plate and her eyes snapped to Harry. "You went on an overnight mission with her?"

"And Jackson," Harry added. He held his girlfriend's gaze for a moment, then glanced away, quickly taking a sip from his butterbeer. Ginny frowned and pushed her plate away.

After everyone had finished their lunch, Luna placed in front of Hermione the chocolate cake she'd baked for her and Hagrid led the group in a chorus of Happy Birthday.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Luna said after the last note was sung.

Hermione tried not to glance toward Remus as she made her wish. Then she blew out the nineteen flaming candles and cut into the moist, delicious-smelling cake.

Ron devoured his slice in three bites. "Mmm…this is good cake, Luna."

The Ravenclaw smiled and passed him another slice.

Hermione enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with her friends, but she could sense a slight tension had developed between Ginny and Harry.

After the party, when she and Ginny were alone in the Head Girl's dormitory late that evening, Hermione asked her friend, "You're not worried about this Elena girl, are you?"

"You mean, am I worried that Harry will fall for the attractive, clever, and talented witch he goes on overnight missions with?" Ginny slumped down on the sofa. "No, of course not."

"You shouldn't be. Harry's with you, remember?"

"But he spends a ton of time with her, way more than he will with me this year. And did you see how moon-eyed Ron was over her? If she's that big a deal, then how could Harry _not_ be interested in her?"

"Because he's with you, Ginny. He doesn't have eyes for anybody else."

Ginny looked away from her, shaking her head. "I just hate that we have to be apart. It makes everything so hard. I keep thinking that with the distance he'll…forget about me. I'm afraid his feelings for me will fade away and I'll still be head over heels for him, and what would I do then?"

The sympathetic Hermione could not only relate to Ginny's fears, she was unfortunately living them with Remus.

"That won't happen. Harry's crazy about you."

Ginny didn't look so convinced. She sighed. "I need some chocolate."

"You're in luck."

Hermione retrieved a box of chocolates from her bedroom and offered them to Ginny.

"Ooh, these are the best," the redhead said, taking a piece. "Thanks."

"Thank your brothers. This is from them."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Who? Fred and George?"

In truth, Hermione was just as surprised as she was. She hadn't expected the twins to even remember her birthday, much less give her anything. These were her favorite chocolates, too. Lucky guess on their part.

"Feel better?" Hermione asked, smiling as Ginny licked her fingers with relish. "Or would you like another?"

Ginny eyed the chocolates. "Maybe one more…"

The box of chocolates was significantly lighter by the time Ginny left.

After getting into bed that night, Hermione reached toward her nightstand for the rose Remus had given her, the rose that, remarkably, still looked as gorgeous and as perfect as it had the day he'd picked it for her several weeks ago. The magic it was imbued with apparently kept it alive and looking pristine.

Hermione breathed in its scent as she settled herself more comfortably under the covers. Was the magic between her and Remus still alive? Were his feelings for her there, latent, beneath the casually professional manner he displayed toward her now that he was her teacher again? If not, would he ever be able to see her as anything more than just a student, more than just Harry's friend? Could anything romantic ever develop between them? She supposed she'd find out sooner rather than later now that she was his assistant.

* * *

Remus was pleased by all the excitement surrounding the Defense Club. Students had been asking him about it every day since the sign-up sheet had been posted last week. They were eager for the meetings to begin, and he was looking forward to Friday just as much as they were. But first he had a meeting pending with Hermione.

Wednesday afternoon arrived, and Remus was reordering the desks that had been shuffled about during class earlier when she joined him in his classroom.

"Hello, Re— I mean, Professor."

He smiled. "You can call me Remus. After all, it was I who insisted you and Harry call me by name since I was no longer your professor. I didn't think I'd ever teach again."

"I can't imagine you being anything other than a teacher." Hermione contemplated him. "What would you have done if you hadn't come back? What did you do…before?"

Remus looked away from her as he stepped behind his desk to take his seat. "I had various occupations — none worth mentioning." He did not look back fondly upon his roving, hand-to-mouth days. For most of his adult life he'd either been unemployed or temporarily doing low-paid work far below his skill level. His lycanthropy had kept him from being what he really wanted to be and trying to conceal his curse had kept him constantly moving. "This past summer, however, Kingsley offered me a position in the Auror department. I'd have done that if I hadn't decided to teach."

"I'm glad you chose teaching."

"So am I. Now, about Friday—"

"Oh, I've done some research." Hermione drew a chair toward his desk and pulled out a notebook from her bag. "I looked up what's been tested on the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s each year for the previous decade and compiled a list of what's most likely to be found on this year's exams. Also, I looked up…"

Hermione relayed to him all the useful information she'd found, the same information he himself had researched, and Remus marveled at her initiative and the extra effort she put into everything she did. No wonder she was top of her class. She had to be one of the brightest students to have passed through Hogwarts this century.

"I appreciate you looking into all that, Hermione. As you said, the Shield Charm is a given on both of these exams, so I thought it should be the first thing we cover. I'd like us to do a demonstration for the students on Friday before we let them go at it." He remembered her having trouble last week performing nonverbal spells, so he suggested, "Let's you and I practice now, shall we?"

They stood at the front of the classroom and took turns silently casting the Shield Charm.

"Excellent," Remus said after Hermione successfully repelled his jinx. "On Friday, we'll—"

"You went easy on me."

"I'm sorry?"

Hermione frowned at him. "You went easy on me just now… Why?"

"We were only practicing."

"Yes, but you didn't have to go _that_ easy. You… you don't think I'm capable. Because of my performance in class the other day…" She looked at him indignantly. "But I'm better than that. I was just nervous then because you — because — but I can hold my own in a duel, you know!"

Remus stared at her. Why was she getting upset? "I believe you, I've seen it. I know you're very capable."

"So if we were to go again, you wouldn't hold back?"

Perplexed, Remus looked between the wand she readily lifted and the wounded pride in her eyes. "There's no need, Hermione. You're the best student in the class, I know you're—"

"I'm not just your _student_ , Remus," she said, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "I'm also — I'm…your assistant. And I think we're allowed to do proper demonstrations. I think the other students would learn more if you didn't go so easy on me."

Why was she getting so worked up over this? Why did she feel the need to prove herself? It was clear to anyone who knew her that she was a superbly talented witch even if she was struggling a bit in his class. But for whatever reasons she may have, Remus decided to give Hermione some confidence.

"You're right," he said. He considered her for a moment, considered what he was about to suggest. Strictly speaking, it was against school rules, especially for a teacher to challenge a student, but under the circumstances he thought it would be acceptable. After all, she was his assistant and she'd been right when she'd said the other students would learn better if they were to do proper demonstrations. So he flicked his wand, and Hermione glanced all around them, startled, as the desks skidded to the edges of the classroom, clearing a space for them to play. "Why don't we duel?"

"Duel? You mean, like — like a real duel?"

"Precisely," he said, bowing low for her. She blinked. Then the gleam of a challenge cheerfully accepted brightened her eyes.

"I'd love to," she told him and bowed in return. Then she mirrored his stance, holding her wand before her like a sword.

"All right. On the count of three," he said. "One — two — three—"

With the speed of someone well-versed in dueling, Remus raised his wand faster than Hermione, firing off the first spell. Reacting quickly, she blocked his jinx then shot him one of her own. He deflected it and went on the offensive, forcing her back several steps — but she didn't give in. So he didn't let up.

He kept her on her toes and they moved about the classroom, engaged in a dance of dodging strikes and counterattacking, their wands slashing before them, their spells nearly colliding in midair. Remus could feel Hermione's power in the jets of silver and red light she fired at him, some of them whizzing past, only narrowly missing him, and some of them almost getting the better of him. His own attempts were repeatedly blocked or sidestepped — she was quick and her defensive magic was strong.

But eventually one of his spells landed its mark. Hit with his Tickling Charm, Hermione burst out laughing uncontrollably. For a moment he was torn between the instinct to lift the spell and make sure she was okay and the impulse to join her in her pleasant and infectious laughter. His hesitation nearly cost him his wand.

It began to fly out of his hand and he just barely managed to maintain his grip on it. Hermione was no longer doubled up laughing until she was breathless but grinning at him as she forced him back on his heels. He smiled as well, impressed by her swiftness and skill. But, truth be told, he was still holding back a little.

She continued to advance upon him, and he allowed her one last attempt before disarming her. Her wand soared out of her hand and straight into his.

"Shoot," Hermione muttered in defeat, but she appeared pleased with her performance nonetheless.

"I'd say you can do more than simply hold your own," Remus said, handing her back her wand. Her fingers brushed over his as she took it and a strange sort of thrill traveled up his arm — a spark from the wand perhaps, no doubt an aftereffect of the duel.

Hermione smiled. "That was…fun."

Remus agreed.

And it was just as fun on Friday.

* * *

 **A/N:** I really enjoyed reading your reviews for the last chapter, thank you! I'm glad you liked the little part with Dumbledore. He'll be reappearing in a couple of key scenes later in the story so you will definitely see him again. And, of course, there will be much more alone time for Hermione and Remus coming up.

Thanks for reading everyone!


	23. Chapter 23

Having Hermione as his assistant proved to be much more helpful than Remus had anticipated. With the large turnout of students ready and eager to practice at last Friday's Defense Club meeting, he would have been in over his head without her. But that first meeting had been a success, and he felt confident he'd get his students to where they needed to be by the end of the year with Hermione's help, and with the help of the Room of Requirement.

The extraordinary room had met the club's needs perfectly, transforming itself into a large space ideal for practicing spells and providing them with valuable resources and supplies. And if they required additional supplies, they simply had to concentrate on what they needed and the room would provide it. He and Hermione had had fun testing this out before the first club meeting, but what they'd both been really drawn to were the hundreds of books on defensive magical tactics that filled the wooden bookcases lining the walls. They'd spent a good deal of time browsing through them and had only stopped when students began to arrive and they'd had to start the meeting.

Remus returned to the Room of Requirement early again this Friday evening to continue exploring its library before the Defense Club was set to meet for the second time. Not knowing where to start, he ran a finger along the spines of the leather-bound tomes and chose a book at random.

He was leafing through the pages of _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ when suddenly and instinctively he straightened up, head cocked, muscles tense: he'd caught a scent — a distinctive, intensely alluring scent. Without turning around, he knew Hermione had entered the room.

He'd become uncomfortably familiar with her scent recently. It had completely caught him off guard the first time he'd noticed it. On the morning of the first day of classes, in the days preceding last month's full moon, he'd detected a dangerously tempting scent through the open door of his office, and, without conscious thought, he'd darted out into the corridor in pursuit of the subject of his desire. The hunt ended moments later when he'd spotted Hermione walking with her friends ahead of him. He'd stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide and his face warm upon realizing it was _her_ scent he'd been tracking.

He'd returned to his office, unnerved by how strongly he'd been affected by her and bewildered as to why he'd perceived her scent at all. He wasn't supposed to be hypersensitive to a woman's scent like that, not while he was taking Wolfsbane Potion. The potion was supposed to alleviate the symptoms of his lycanthropy and inhibit the animalistic traits and instincts that typically displayed themselves when the full moon approached, and it usually did just that. It normally worked faultlessly, like a dream — except when it came to Hermione, apparently.

Like he'd done for his first class with the seventh year Gryffindors, Remus had mentally prepared himself today for his reaction to Hermione. He'd always been good at suppressing his wolfish impulses and maintaining his self-control, even when he hadn't had the luxury of Wolfsbane Potion, so he wasn't worried when Hermione joined him by the bookcases now.

"Hi, Remus," she said brightly. "I just overheard a group of fifth years talking about Defense Club and how helpful last week's meeting was. They seemed really excited about it. And everyone seemed to love the duel we did for demonstration."

"I suppose watching your teacher nearly getting bested by his assistant _would_ be rather amusing," he replied good-humoredly.

Hermione grinned. "I know you're still going easy on me, but I've been getting some helpful suggestions all week about what jinxes I should use the next time we duel. Neville and Dean want me to try _Tarantallegra_ on you. For some reason, they really want to see you dance."

Remus laughed. "For everyone else's sake, I hope you don't humor those two. I'm a terrible dancer, even with the Dancing Feet Spell."

"That's not true. I saw you dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding. You weren't bad at all."

An image popped into his mind of Hermione that night, and it surprised him how vividly he remembered the way she'd looked in that lilac-colored dress she'd been wearing… He wished she hadn't mentioned it.

"They asked if we'd be doing a repeat performance tonight," Hermione continued. "I thought it best to leave them in suspense, so I told them they'd have to wait until the meeting to find out."

Remus checked his watch. "The meeting's not for a while yet." A while he'd have to spend struggling with her scent, her presence. "You're early."

"Oh — I'm sorry," she said, looking embarrassed and taking a step back. "I didn't mean to — to disturb you—"

"You didn't, not at all. I just didn't expect to see you until later. But I'm glad you're here. I like you coming in early."

Merlin's beard, what was he saying? But Hermione's smile returned.

"Well, I couldn't resist," she said. "The books," she quickly added. "I couldn't resist the books." She turned to the bookshelves, her gaze roaming over the rows of volumes. "I was looking through one last week about fear and how important it is to be able to control your emotions in dangerous situations so you can better control your magic and power. It said fear especially could either defeat you or provide you strength depending on how you harness it. I'd like to give it a read. It reminded me of something Harry once said..."

Hermione swept her long brown hair back over her shoulder as she searched the shelves for the book she wanted, and Remus's eyes closed briefly as he inhaled her tantalizing scent.

"I don't remember what it was called, but it was a skinny red book. Have you seen it? It was around here somewhere."

She glanced back at him when he didn't answer her, and he started guiltily. Then he shook his head, not in reply but in an attempt to rid himself of the less than pure thoughts taking over it.

"I — uh, no, I haven't. I'll help you look."

He scanned the shelves for the skinny red one Hermione sought and quickly found one matching the description. He reached for it at the same time she did, and his hand covered hers — an impulse more powerful than any he'd ever experienced surged through him at the contact. But was the impulse to bite or — or to do something else? He didn't know. Sometimes the two instincts intertwined and it became difficult to discern one from the other. Either way, the alarmed Remus promptly retracted his hand and stepped away from Hermione.

Oblivious to his panic, she pulled the book off the shelf and examined it. "Perfect. This is it."

Remus's knuckles went white as his grip tightened around his own book. He'd greatly underestimated the affect Hermione could have on him. Teaching her in a classroom full of people was quite a different matter than being with her here in this room, alone…

Hermione looked up at him and her chocolate brown eyes grew concerned. "Is something wrong, Remus?"

He shook his head again and managed to tensely utter, "I'm fine."

Then, against every instinct, against every fiber of his being that wanted nothing more than to get closer to her, that was irresistibly drawn to Hermione by some force greater than himself and his careful self-restraint, Remus turned away from her, unable to hold her gaze while the wolf inside him struggled for release. His confidence in his self-control wavered, replaced by a rising panic.

"Remus?" she said cautiously, and he feared she'd seen the shadow of the wolf upon his face just as clearly as he felt it thrashing about inside him. He'd never felt like this before, didn't know what he was capable of doing. He had to leave—

Just then, a group of Gryffindors entered the Room of Requirement. Relief flooded Remus at their sudden appearance, at the distraction they provided, but it took him several moments to clear his head enough to remember the Defense Club meeting they were all here for. As he returned the cheerful greetings of the students who had, to his great fortune, arrived early for it, he mentally noted he should _never_ be alone with Hermione again in the days preceding the full moon.

* * *

The sight of the waning moon outside his window comforted Remus more than usual this month. He'd been on edge ever since his encounter with Hermione in the Room of Requirement a few days ago, disconcerted by how much she'd affected him. He hoped Hermione hadn't noticed. And if she had, he hoped she understood it was just a symptom of his lycanthropy that had made him behave so strangely, it wasn't him.

It was troubling how much he'd felt the presence of the wolf within him while he was around her. He didn't understand it, and he hated to think of what he might have done if he'd completely lost his sense of self. He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to get away from the castle, clear his mind, so he journeyed down to Hogsmeade in search of a drink.

Along his way to the Three Broomsticks, he remembered how depleted his stash of chocolate was. He changed course, directing himself toward Honeydukes instead to restock his supply before they closed for the night. Inside the sweetly aromatic shop, he made a beeline for the selection of dark chocolate, then headed to the counter, arms full of his favorite sweets. An unfamiliar blonde woman greeted him. Remus looked around, disappointed by the absence of the old couple who owned the place. It had been a long time since he'd last visited Mrs. Flume, who had always been very kind to him, ever since his days as a Hogwarts student and even after she'd learned he was a werewolf a few years back.

"Looking for someone?" asked the blonde woman behind the counter.

"Mrs. Flume. Is she here?"

The blonde shook her head. "She and her husband are on holiday. Are you a friend of hers? Do you need to reach her?"

"No, I'm just a longtime customer and wanted to say hello."

"May I ask your name?"

"Remus Lupin."

The woman paused in bagging his items for purchase, her eyes lighting up. "Remus Lupin? She's told me about you. You're one of Auntie's favorites."

"You're her niece?"

"That's right. I'm Vivienne." She extended her hand and he politely took it. "Glad to meet you. I can see Auntie wasn't exaggerating when she said you're a chocolate fiend."

"Well, it's out of my control, really."

She smiled and handed over his bags of sweets. "She really is very fond of you. No need for that," she said, glancing down at the money he'd taken out to pay. "This one's on the house."

"Oh, no, you don't have to…" Remus demurred.

"Keep it." She wrapped her hand over his, folding his fingers over the coins on his palm. "You'll need that to buy me a drink."

"Pardon?"

"It's been slow here tonight, so I'm closing up early and heading over to the Three Broomsticks. Care to join me?"

Remus hesitated. Vivienne was a very attractive woman, perhaps in her early thirties, with bright and teasing eyes and full, sensual lips. And he was gray-haired and still a bit peaky from his recent transformation… Why would she want to have drinks with him?

If Sirius were alive, he'd surely smack him upside the head for turning the woman down like this, but Remus offered her some excuse about having to get back to the castle to finish up some work he needed to get done by tomorrow.

"You're a teacher?" Vivienne asked, unfazed by his refusal. "That's fitting." She tilted her head as she studied him. "You're intelligent, sophisticated, authoritative…"

Remus wouldn't have described himself that way and was surprised as to why she did. "Did your aunt tell you that?"

"No, your choice of sweets did — dark chocolate. My favorite is chocolate filled with caramel, which makes me adventurous and fun-loving. I also happen to be intuitive, and right now I sense you're in need of a break, being the hard worker that you are." Vivienne pulled on her coat and stepped around the counter. "Come with me, Professor Lupin," she said, taking his hand. "I promise you, I'm great company."

Her lips curved into an easy smile, and Remus, who'd been planning on going to the pub anyway and supposed it wouldn't hurt to have some company, allowed her to lead him away.

* * *

At the Three Broomsticks, Remus learned Vivienne's description of herself was quite accurate. She proved to be great company with her wit, charm, and wicked sense of humor. He had a good time with her and she seemed to enjoy herself as well.

When they said goodbye at the end of the night, she kissed the corner of his mouth and suggested they get together again soon. In that moment, Remus felt a thrill of delight at the prospect of seeing her again, a glimmer of possibility. But like nearly every other time he'd gone out with a woman, that hopeful glimmer quickly faded away.

As he walked back to the castle, his path illuminated by the silvery-white moon hanging high in the night sky, a subtle melancholy stole over him instead. He contemplated whether he should see Vivienne again, whether he should open that door and begin whatever it was that the future might hold for the pair of them. Because if something were to develop between them, he knew where it would ultimately lead, knew that it would end, the same way any romantic relationship he were to ever have would have to end. This knowledge was the reason why he'd never been seriously involved with anybody before.

He'd never allowed himself the chance to fall in love — why would he when he knew it could only end in heartache? He was a werewolf and no woman would want to be with him once he revealed his wolfish nature, and he wouldn't want to burden anyone with his curse anyway. The stigma attached to creatures like him, the danger — he'd never put anybody through that, least of all the woman he loved.

In his bedroom that night, Remus closed the curtains over his window, shutting out the sight of the waning moon that had comforted him earlier. It only taunted him now. He had long ago accepted he'd never have a normal life, but at times like these an old bitterness crept up on him and threatened to take hold of him, and he wished he'd never been bitten. But wishing was useless. Nothing could cure his furry little problem, nothing could change his cursed fate, not Vivienne or anybody else.

As much as he hated to admit it, his lycanthropy dominated his life, dominated _him_ , and while the wolf reigned inside him, he could never be normal and have a family of his own. He could never know the happiness that others knew and so often took for granted. He could never fall in love or be loved in return. And more than the excruciating pain racking his body during his monthly transformations, more than the stinging disgrace cast upon him by society, _that_ reality was what killed him the most.

* * *

 **A/N:** A bit of a depressing end to the chapter, I know.

I was originally inspired to write this fic after reading Remus's backstory on Pottermore (he's such a tragic character and I wanted to give him an ending where he _didn't_ die right after finally finding his happiness). I thought it was heartbreaking how he convinced himself he should never marry and denied himself the chance at love for so long because he thought himself so unclean and unworthy. Let's see what Hermione can do about that…


	24. Chapter 24

October was flying by for Hermione. Her endless homework assignments, the Defense Club meetings, and her duties as Head Girl all ate away at the free time she'd set aside for herself each week while making her study schedule at the start of term. Juggling her various responsibilities proved a more challenging task than she'd anticipated.

So alone in the entrance hall one late October night, too exhausted to make her final rounds about the castle to make sure there were no students still wandering the corridors, her final duty of the day, she pulled the Marauder's Map out of her bag.

"The Marauders surely wouldn't approve of this," she muttered to herself, "but after all these years of being used for mischief, it's about time this map is utilized to _enforce_ the rules." With the intention of using the map to search for students breaking curfew, she touched her wand to the parchment and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Black ink appeared on the previously blank piece of parchment, the words appearing as though being written by an invisible hand:

 _"Mr. Prongs presents his compliments to Miss Granger and would like to remind her that this hallowed parchment is to be used for rule-breaking only. Any action counter to this purpose would desecrate all that is naughty in the world and will not be tolerated."_

 _"Mr. Wormtail suggests the pretty lady either join the Marauders in their noble pursuit of mischief or pass the parchment to someone more worthy of their cause. Know-it-all snitches are not permitted to possess such a sacred item."_

 _"Mr. Padfoot sincerely hopes, however, that this teacher's pet decides to take a walk on the wild side. Perhaps she will find it more enjoyable than life on the straight and narrow."_

 _"Mr. Moony bids Miss Granger good day and would like her to know that if she ever grows tired of her books and goody two-shoes ways, the Marauders will delightedly welcome her and show her what real fun looks like."_

Disappointed, stunned, offended, and intrigued all at once, Hermione gaped and then frowned at the legendary troublemakers' ingenious creation. If Harry and Ron had been here, they would've been laughing at her hysterically.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione jumped, startled by the unexpected but familiar voice in the lonely, dim hall.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to frighten you," Remus said. "What are you doing down here so late? Shouldn't you be in your dormitory?"

"Look at this!" Hermione said in lieu of an answer, pushing the parchment into his hands, partly annoyed and partly impressed with his younger self for helping create such a clever map.

Remus read through the messages, and a smile tugged at his lips. "For what were you planning on using the map?"

"I just wanted to check if there was anybody breaking curfew. Using the map would have been much quicker and more thorough than doing it on my own."

"That's not what the map is for."

"I know. It's for troublemakers. It's to help them sneak out of the castle and do mischief without getting caught. But it's not fair to call me a snitch! I'm only fulfilling my responsibility as Head Girl."

"Don't let what the map says bother you, Hermione." Remus tapped his wand on the parchment and it went blank. "It's bewitched to insult anyone who might undermine the Marauders' mission to incite as much mischief as possible — mostly teachers."

"And me," Hermione said, half stung, half amused. "Because I'm a 'teacher's pet' and a 'goody two-shoes,' and apparently I don't know what real fun is. So, tell me, Mr. Moony, what _is_ real fun?"

Remus laughed. "Certainly nothing you would approve of." He gazed at the parchment, a faraway look in his eyes. "We could be real idiots sometimes."

Hermione smiled, knowing from firsthand experience now, thanks to her little time traveling adventure, how true that was — at least of Sirius, James, and Peter. Even when joining his friends in their mischief, Remus had always been more mature than them, more mindful of others and the consequences of his actions.

"But the map, the magic behind it — it's brilliant," she told him. "It's incredible that school-age wizards created this."

"What's incredible is how it ended up with Harry, the only descendent of the Marauders. I never did ask him how he came across it. Last I knew of the map was my seventh year at Hogwarts, when Filch confiscated it."

"Fred and George nicked it from his office. They're the ones who passed it on to Harry in our third year."

"And he passed it on to you."

"Only temporarily. He said I should have it this year just in case I ever needed it."

"As your professor, I should probably confiscate this," Remus said, tapping his wand against the parchment a second time, "but I know no harm will come if I leave it in your possession." He handed it back to Hermione. "I trust you will use it wisely — for good and not for mischief."

Hermione looked at the parchment again to find that it was no longer blank nor showing any more messages from the Marauders. Instead, it revealed the map of Hogwarts. "Thank you, Remus. I'll be done with my patrol in no time now."

"Glad to be of help," he said distractedly, and she looked up from the map to see him glancing toward the door to a nearby broom closet. He strode over to it and she tucked the map back into her bag as she watched him open the door for a moment before shutting it again in disappointment. "I thought there might be a boggart in there," he told her in response to her questioning gaze.

She remembered how he'd mentioned to her last week that he was searching the castle for one on which to practice the boggart banishing spell in Defense Club. "So you haven't had any luck finding one yet?"

"No, but in a castle like this, I'm bound to find one soon."

They climbed up the marble staircase together, Hermione worrying what would happen the next time she came face-to-face with a boggart. Her experience with these particular creatures, which transformed themselves into a person's greatest fear, was not so good.

As they started down a corridor toward another staircase, she tentatively asked, "When you do find a boggart, is it all right if I practice on it before we cover that in Defense Club? I haven't done so well against them in the past."

When she'd faced one during her final exam for D.A.D.A. in third year, the exam set by Remus, she'd done horribly. The boggart she was supposed to fight had shape-shifted into Professor McGonagall and told her she'd failed everything. She'd gotten terribly upset and Harry and Ron had been hopeless in their attempts to calm her down from her panic. Remus had been the one to successfully reassure her and help her get a grip on herself, and she was sure he remembered all this too because he gave her a small smile now and said, "Of course. I'll let you know as soon as I find one."

Hermione remembered how he'd come from the direction of the dungeons, which definitely held plenty of dark and enclosed spaces that the creatures liked to inhabit, before he'd run into her in the entrance hall, and asked him, "Is that what you were doing before, looking for a boggart?"

Remus hesitated. "No, I was actually — er —"

"On a noble pursuit of mischief?" she teased as they climbed up a narrower flight of stairs. Then she remembered another door that led off the entrance hall and what lay beyond it. "Were you down in the kitchens? Stealing food?"

He flashed her a sheepish grin and Hermione, struck by how much that simple gesture reminded her of the teenage Remus, and the way he used to look at her, forgot to avoid the next step on the staircase—

"Careful, Hermione—" Remus warned, but too late. She cried out in surprise as she took a strange, weightless step that had her leg sinking right through the staircase beneath her feet. "There's a trick step there," he finished. "You have to jump it."

"Ooh — I know," she said, trying unsuccessfully to free her leg, which had sunk in the trick step to above her knee. "I just — you're very distracting."

Remus frowned slightly as he looked down at her, and she was grateful the light was too dim for him to notice her blush and even more grateful he couldn't read her mind and see the memories that distracted her, though she still felt very self-conscious trapped there beneath his curious gaze.

"Um, do you think you could help me get out of here, please?"

"Oh. Right."

Taking hold of her arms, he pulled her out of the trick step and helped her climb onto the step above. All the while Hermione wondered if he couldn't see just how affected she was by their contact, by how close they were standing together now on the narrow staircase, and by his scent, which was even more appealing than usual.

"You smell delicious," she noted aloud before she could stop herself, and Remus swiftly stepped back from her, looking suddenly tense. "Like the dessert we had at dinner," she hastily elaborated.

"Ah, yes. The dessert," he said, sounding relieved. He pulled from inside his coat a small bag and opened it up for her. "Would you like a jam tart or a custard cream?"

"You _were_ stealing food from the kitchens," Hermione said, amused.

"I wasn't stealing. I was getting an extra helping of dessert, which is perfectly acceptable."

"Then why were you sneaking around, hiding it in your coat like a thief?" she asked, taking the jam tart he offered and starting up the stairs again.

"When I heard you in the entrance hall I thought you might be Mr. Filch, so I stuffed the bag in my coat on instinct. You see, Filch was never very fond of me and my friends when I was a student and I don't think that's changed much now. I feel like he still thinks I'm up to no good and always has an eye on me, just waiting for me to do something suspicious so he can be the one to catch me."

"Sounds like your guilty conscience is making you paranoid. At least we're eating the evidence of your mischief, so if he does catch you, he'll have no proof of your thievery."

"Catches _us_." He nodded at the jam tart she was enjoying. "You are now an accessory to my crime."

They reached the next corridor but only went a few steps before Hermione froze.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered urgently to Remus, squinting into the shadowy passageway ahead of them.

"What?"

"Footsteps." There was nobody in the corridor as far as she could see, but from what she'd heard somebody was prowling about nearby, headed straight toward them, and that person could only be— " _Filch!_ "

Hermione and Remus exchanged a wide-eyed look, then made a run for it as quietly as they could. They slid through the nearest door, which was thankfully unlocked, and took cover in the dark classroom beyond it.

As silent and as still as they could possibly be, they huddled by the door, listening for the sound of Filch passing them by and leaving the coast clear again. But a minute or so passed and they didn't hear a thing.

"Check the map," Remus suggested.

Hermione wiped her hands clean on the skirt of her school uniform, getting rid of the crumbs, the last remaining evidence of their mischief, and pulled out the map again.

"Lumos," Remus whispered, covering his wand with his hand so that its glow only illuminated the parchment and could not be seen through the crack under the door and give them away.

Hermione frowned as she scanned the map under his light. "There's nobody in the corridor." She looked up at him, confused. "But I swear I heard somebody…"

"Sounds like your guilty conscience is making you paranoid."

Hermione grinned. "Perhaps. You're right, though. This _is_ more fun than my books and goody two-shoes ways."

"I'm afraid I've had a bad influence on you."

They left the classroom, and out in the corridor once again, Remus paused. "I'm this way," he said, indicating the way to his office and living quarters, which was in the opposite direction she needed to go to get to her dorm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione. Stay out of trouble."

"I will," she said, disappointed that they had to part ways. "Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight."

He hesitated for a moment, and Hermione wondered if he'd just felt the same impulse she'd felt, if on some level he remembered how he used to walk her to her dorm every night and give her a goodnight kiss so sweet it left her smiling in her sleep and eager to wake the next morning to continue living out her dream with him — but then he was turning away and walking off down the corridor, and she was sure the flash of recognition she'd thought she'd seen in his eyes had just been her desperate longing sparking her imagination.

Perhaps if she had acted on her impulse, perhaps if she were to kiss him, it would stir his memory… If only she had the nerve to test that theory. It was probably too soon for her to make a move as bold as that anyway. She didn't want to ruin things between them, not when they were going this well and she was finally starting to relax around him.

Although she still had some awkward moments around him, everything had become easier and friendlier between them, even playful sometimes, with the time they'd spent together outside of class these last few weeks. Besides arriving to the Room of Requirement early before Defense Club meetings on Friday to prepare, or staying late afterward to explore the hundreds of books the room offered them, they usually got together sometime earlier in the week as well to discuss the next meeting and how the students were progressing. But their conversation often digressed. It reminded her of when they used to study together in the library or Gryffindor common room in the past. It felt almost like it did back then between them, back when they were friends and not just student and teacher.

So caught up in her musings and memories and in watching Remus's dot on the map, Hermione almost missed the two dots roaming about not too far from her, two dots representing a pair of people who should definitely not be in the castle…

She made her way through the now completely darkened hallways toward one of them, using her wand to light the way. When she reached the corner before him, she put out the light, stealthily crept up on the trespasser, then said, " _What_ are you doing?"

George Weasley jumped like she had earlier and whipped around to illuminate her with his own lit wand. "Jeez, Hermione. You shouldn't sneak up on a fellow like that. And it's Fred, not George."

"Don't try to fool me. I know you're George."

"How could you? Even Mum gets us confused. Ah," he said with a look of comprehension. "I guess that old trick doesn't work so well now, does it? The ear — or lack thereof — gives me away."

"It wasn't that. I saw you on the Marauder's Map. And I also know you're you because of your eyes — they're gentler than Fred's."

George arched an eyebrow. "Been admiring my eyes, have you? Can't blame you, really. They are quite captivating."

Hermione rolled her own eyes. "So, what are you and Fred doing at Hogwarts? And at this hour? Does McGonagall know?"

"Not exactly."

"You sneaked in?"

"Well, yeah. Since a lot of our products are banned at Hogwarts, we didn't think the Headmistress would give us permission to put up advertisements here for the grand opening of our Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes branch in Hogsmeade."

"You're finally opening up the new joke shop? Ginny mentioned you would soon, but she didn't say when."

"Next weekend."

"Great! It's Hogsmeade weekend for us."

"We know. Fred and I thought it made the most business sense to line it up this way. So you'll come, won't you?"

"Of course I will. I wouldn't miss it. But when you said 'put up advertisements,' you mean you just put up some flyers or posters, right? You didn't turn one of the corridors into a swamp like you did when Umbridge taught here?"

George grinned fondly at the memory. "No swamps this time. Just posters and banners. But they're bewitched so I suggest you don't touch them or try to take them down until after the grand opening unless you want to become a walking advertisement for one of our new products."

"Thanks for the warning," Hermione said, mentally noting that she must inform McGonagall about this first thing in the morning, and glad George had been kind enough to give her this word of caution before she became a walking advertisement, whatever that meant. Then she remembered the birthday gift she'd received from the twins. "Oh, and thank you for the chocolates, by the way. Those are my favorite kind, you know."

George smiled. "Yeah, glad you enjoyed them."

"Ginny and I both. We — Wait, how did you know they're my favorite?"

"You told me once."

Hermione frowned, unable to remember. "When?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Maybe a couple of summers ago."

A vague memory surfaced in Hermione's mind of a conversation she'd had with the twins at the Burrow. They'd offered her a sweet, and of course, assuming it was one of their joke products and would likely make her sick, she'd refused. They'd insisted she try it, though, describing to her how delicious the caramel was, and challenged her to take a risk for once. She told them she might have taken the risk if they'd offered her favorite dark chocolate from Honeydukes…

Hermione couldn't believe George remembered that. Had he mentally stored that tidbit of information with the intention of one day using it to pull a prank on her? But he could have easily done that with the chocolates he and Fred had sent her for her birthday, yet they hadn't tampered with them or pulled any sort of joke on her at all.

"Oh no," Fred Weasley said, suddenly appearing out of the shadows. "We've been caught by the Head Girl. We're in big trouble now, Georgie."

"Hi, Fred. I was just thanking your brother for the chocolates you guys sent me."

"What chocolates?"

"The ones you gave me for my birthday."

"Your birthday?" he said, looking clueless. "When was that?"

Hermione turned her confused gaze upon George, who appeared uncharacteristically nervous. He looked away from her.

"I think I hear someone coming," he said. "Better go, Gred."

"Aye, Forge. Bye, Hermione."

Hermione stared after them, not knowing what to make of this. Why would George send her chocolates and pretend it was a gift from both him and Fred? Too tired to contemplate this right now, she shook her head and hurried to her dorm. Her patrol had gone much too late and she was in danger of getting into trouble herself.

In Transfiguration class the next morning, however, she told Ginny all about George and the chocolates.

"He must fancy you!" was Ginny's response.

Hermione laughed.

"Why is that funny?" Ginny wanted to know.

Hermione sobered. "You — you're not serious, are you? George can't fancy _me_."

"Why not?"

"Because… Well, he's George. We're so different. He couldn't fancy someone like me." The idea was simply absurd. He and Fred had always poked fun at her for being uptight about rules and for being overly concerned with academics. George, the joking, mischievous prankster, couldn't possibly be interested in her, could he?

"There's a reason they say that opposites attract." Ginny grinned. "I am going to tease him so much about this!"

"Ginny, don't! We don't even know if it's true. If he did, why would he want me to think the chocolates were from him _and_ Fred?"

The redhead shrugged. "Maybe he wanted to do something nice for you but didn't want you to know he likes you yet. Or maybe he feels guilty for fancying you because you're his little brother's ex-girlfriend."

Hermione still thought it highly unlikely that George could fancy her, but no other explanation came to mind.

"So if he were to ask you out, would you say yes?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, I don't know…" Although George was a quite a catch — funny, clever, good-looking, and athletic — Hermione could only think of one person in a romantic way.

"Do you realize, if you were to go out with him, he would be the second Weasley you dated?" Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her, a mannerism identical to Fred and George's. "What is it with you and my brothers?"

"I see you girls think my class is for senseless chitchat and not Transfiguration." Hermione and Ginny turned to face Professor Avila, who had marched over to their desks at the back of the classroom without them noticing and who now looked down her nose at them, stern and nettled.

"We've been practicing. Honestly, Professor," Ginny claimed. To prove this, she perfectly performed the Transfiguration assigned that lesson. "See?"

Professor Avila scowled at the youngest Weasley, then turned to Hermione. "And you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was also successful in her Transfiguration attempt, which displeased Professor Avila even more. She assigned both girls extra homework.

"She hates me too now," Ginny noted dispassionately.

During their next class that morning, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione and Ginny were too busy concentrating on their spellwork to resume their conversation about George. Their focus was interrupted only when Remus came over to watch them practice.

"I've found a boggart," he told Hermione. "If you have time today after classes, we could go practice on it this afternoon."

"We?" She hadn't expected him to practice with her. What if she made a fool of herself in front of him like she'd done back in third year?

"You're not supposed to fight these kinds of creatures without teacher supervision," he informed her, "so I'll be going with you. Is that all right?"

"That's fine. Where will we be practicing?"

"The boggart has taken up residence in the broom closet on the fourth floor. Meet me there after classes."

Ginny waited for Remus to walk away to another pair of students before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?" asked a bemused Hermione.

"He told you to meet him by the broom closet!" Hermione's face remained blank so Ginny explained, "That's where people go to snog. I caught Lavender and Seamus coming out of there one time. Apparently, it's a popular place for that sort of thing."

"Stop laughing," Hermione said when the Weasley began giggling again. "That's where the boggart is. It's not like Remus and I are going to..." She couldn't finish the sentence nor hide the warmth coloring her cheeks.

"Of course you're not. Although if _I_ had to go in there with a professor," Ginny whispered now as Remus moved to a pair closer to them, "I'd probably choose him."

"Ginny!"

"I think he'd be a good kisser, don't you?"

Hermione could certainly attest to the fact that yes, he absolutely was a good kisser, but she cleared her throat and changed the topic instead. Raising her eyebrows inquiringly, she said, "So Lavender and Seamus…?"

Ginny nodded, grinning. "And you know, now that I think about it, I remember running into my brother Percy and his old girlfriend Penelope Clearwater near that same broom closet in my second year…and they were both rather nervous and disheveled-looking — Merlin's beard, I wish I hadn't put two and two together just now."

Ginny made a face and it was Hermione's turn to giggle.

"I'm glad you're having fun in my class," Remus said, pausing beside them once more, "but please do remember to stay on task."

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny said. "We will."

"What were you two laughing about anyway?"

"Nothing," both girls responded — a bit _too_ quickly.

Remus looked between them and then narrowed his eyes slightly at Hermione, who smiled sheepishly.

"Guilty conscience?" he teased.

Hermione left the Defense classroom feeling as pleased with her progress in learning the new spells they'd just gone over as she was delighted in her progress with Remus. She spent the afternoon anticipating her meeting with him later and giving less thought than she probably should to preparing for her encounter with the boggart.

After classes that day, however, as she headed toward the broom closet on the fourth floor, passing along the way various Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes posters bursting with bright colors and magic, she did her best to put aside her thoughts of Remus (and snogging) and tried to maintain her focus solely on how she was going to fight the boggart that awaited her. How could she make Professor McGonagall and the prospect of failing into something funny? She was at a loss. This was tougher than she'd thought. Maybe it was good Remus was going to be there with her. He probably had plenty of ideas that could help her out.

He wasn't there yet when she reached the place where they were supposed to meet. She was about to wait in the corridor for him to arrive, but then she heard a noise coming from within the broom closet. Thinking Remus might be inside, she opened the door. Lights flickered on in the small room filled with buckets and mops, and there, as she'd suspected, was Remus. His back was to her, but he turned around when he heard her enter. One look at his face and Hermione's cheery greeting died on her lips.

"Remus — what's wrong?"

Slowly, he held up the photograph he had clutched in his hands, and Hermione felt the blood drain from her face — it was the picture she kept tucked away in her nightstand drawer in her dorm, the picture of her sitting cozily with the teenage Remus by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the one Lily had taken of them in the past… How on earth had he gotten his hands on that photograph?

"What is this?" Remus demanded quietly, and Hermione's wide eyes shifted back to him, her heart rate rising in panic. How could she possibly explain that to him?

"I — it — where did you get that?" she spluttered.

"It doesn't matter," he said brusquely, lowering his arm to his side, the photograph crumpling slightly in his fist. "I remember."

The pounding of her heart filled the silence that followed. Hermione tried to swallow, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"You — you remember?" she managed to get out breathlessly, her mind racing. But Dumbledore had Obliviated his memory, he _couldn't_ have remembered. It was impossible. "W-what exactly do you mean by that?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Hermione. I remember everything."

The quiet edge in his voice had her insides squirming, her chest tightening. The usual gentleness in his gaze was gone. His eyes were hard, stormy, looking at her like they had never truly seen her before. He was angry, he couldn't believe what she had done.

"Remus…" His name fell weakly from her lips into the tense atmosphere between them, barely audible even to her own ears. She tried again. "Remus, please let me explain—"

"Do you realize," he cut across her, "if anybody were to find out about this… You're my _student_ , Hermione. I could get fired for this, lose my job, everything—"

"No, you wouldn't. That was a long time ago, and you — you didn't know I'd time traveled or that we knew each other in the future. You didn't know you were my teacher—"

"You're right. I _didn't_ know." Hermione winced at the accusation in his tone. "And if I _had_ known, I would have never…"

He shook his head, his gaze full of reproach. She bit her lip, eyes burning with tears. This was not the way she wanted him to find out about them. This was not the way it should be.

"You should have told me, Hermione. You should have told me the truth about everything. I deserved to know. You shouldn't have allowed any of this to happen. What you did — it was a violation."

Her stomach churned horribly. He was repulsed by her, horrified by her actions. She'd taken advantage of the situation in the past, of _him_ , and she felt sick.

"You completely violated my trust. You lied to me, tampered with my memory…"

"Remus, _please_ —"

She stepped toward him without thinking, desperate to explain herself, but he hastily drew his wand and pointed it at her warily.

" _Don't_ — I don't want you anywhere near me, Hermione!"

Her insides turned cold as ice, cold like his eyes as he glared at her.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes widened at the sound of the voice behind her. She spun around wildly to find Remus standing by the door, staring past her at the other Remus — or rather, the boggart impersonating the real Remus.

"Oh!" she gasped, feeling faint as she was hit with the realization of what was going on. She looked between the two Remus's, one disconcerted and the other angry — she couldn't handle this. She stumbled out of the broom closet and steadied herself against the wall in the corridor, hurriedly wiping the tears from her eyes with shaking hands before Remus came out after her. He couldn't see her like this. He couldn't know, couldn't find out… Oh god, she hoped he hadn't heard anything.

He appeared beside her a moment later, worry plainly etched on his features as he examined her.

"I'll be fine," she said before he could ask if she was all right, and she was grateful she sounded a bit more calm and collected than she felt. "It's just…boggarts seem to give me more trouble than anything else. I guess I'm not very good at facing my fears. No wonder Harry beat me in third year."

Remus contemplated her soberly. "Hermione…you're afraid of — of _me_?"

"No, not you. I'm afraid of…failure." She lowered her gaze, ashamed to be lying to him again. "You — you told me I was an awful assistant and a horrible Head Girl, and that I'd fail all my classes."

"It was just a boggart, it wasn't real," he told her reassuringly.

"But it _felt_ real. What you said…I'm afraid it c-could happen." She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

"It won't," Remus said firmly. "There is no possible way you could fail your classes, Hermione. And you're doing phenomenally as Head Girl. As for being my assistant, I can't tell you how grateful I am to McGonagall for making the suggestion. I don't know what I would do without you."

His kind words only made her feel worse. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she turned away from him. "I'm sorry, Remus. I — I have to go."

She hurried down the corridor away from him, away from the boggart-Remus that had revealed what she, in the back of her mind, had always feared to be true: what she'd done with Remus in the past was wrong. She'd lied to him, and she was still lying to him now. If Remus were to ever learn what she'd allowed to happen between them in the past, if he were to ever find out the truth she'd kept from him then, and the secret she was keeping from him now, he'd never forgive her. She was certain of it.

* * *

 **A/N:** Boggarts are not Hermione's friend :(

Thanks for reading! This chapter turned out longer than I planned, but I hope it didn't feel too long for you.

Thanks also to each of you wonderful reviewers! I love reading your thoughts on the chapter. Your reviews really help more than you know.


	25. Chapter 25

Beside him, Professors Slughorn and Flitwick were having a heated discussion about a new policy set forth by the Ministry of Magic, but Remus was too distracted by Hermione to pay them much attention. He watched her as she walked with her friends a ways ahead of him along the path to Hogsmeade and couldn't help but dwell once again on the form the boggart in the broom closet had taken when she'd faced it several days ago. Why had it taken _his_ shape? Why was Hermione afraid of him?

She'd told him her boggart represented her fear of failure and that the boggart-Remus had told her she'd failed everything, just like the boggart-McGonagall had told her she'd failed everything in her third year. Yet, although it made perfect sense for someone like Hermione to fear failure, and he had no reason to doubt her honesty, Remus nonetheless suspected that she hadn't been completely truthful with him regarding the nature of her fear.

But why would she fear him? Was it because he was a werewolf? Was it because of what happened in the Room of Requirement last month, when he'd feared she'd seen the shadow of the wolf upon his face? Had she sensed his struggle with his wolfish instincts and feared he could have lost control and bitten her? If that were the case, though, wouldn't the boggart-Remus have transformed into a werewolf instead of staying human, or wouldn't it have tried to attack her in some way? But that didn't appear to be what was happening at all. The boggart-Remus had actually been in a defensive position, standing back from Hermione, its wand pointed at her warily... Why?

Remus wished he had arrived to the broom closet sooner. As he'd walked up to the door, he'd heard muffled voices coming from inside but couldn't make out what they were saying. Then he'd entered the tiny room and come face to face with himself. It had been peculiar and shocking to say the least. It'd taken him a second to realize he was looking at a boggart, and the way the boggart was glaring at Hermione troubled him. There'd been a mixture of anger, wariness, and distaste in the boggart's expression… Remus couldn't imagine himself ever looking at Hermione that way. What reason did the boggart have to do so?

When he and his colleagues reached High Street, Remus saw Hermione and her friends join the crowd of people visiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Today was the shop's grand opening, as announced by the banners and posters that had mysteriously appeared within Hogwarts castle one night last week and which could not be taken down by any physical or magical means, much to Filch's infuriation.

Remus contemplated whether he, as a professor at the school where much of the merchandise in the store was banned, should visit the shop, but then Flitwick made the suggestion, so the pair of them parted from Slughorn, who went off to the Three Broomsticks, and headed toward the joke shop.

The sight that awaited them inside was a shock to Remus's retinas: a wonderfully, dazzlingly colorful, animated, and almost chaotic assortment of goods. He didn't know where to look. He didn't know what to check out first: the Skiving Snackboxes piled up high to the ceiling, the bins full of trick wands that turned into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs, the selection of quills that included the Smart-Answer variety, the display of bottled potions in an array of different colors and with as many different effects, or the eye-catching exhibit of a new flashing, popping, and shrieking product. The Marauder part of himself that had been subdued over the years stirred strongly now and was in paradise in this place. Even his more mature teacher self was impressed by the products his former pupils had created, and he was eager to explore everything.

The shop was jam-packed with customers, though, and it was difficult to navigate through the aisles or get close to the shelves. Remus lost sight of tiny Professor Flitwick among the group of people admiring the display of Patented Daydream Charms and headed off on his own to a less crowded section of the shop. He ended up squeezing into the same aisle as Hermione.

She was browsing the shelves alone, but Remus hesitated to approach her, unsure whether she wanted to be bothered by him. He was about to move elsewhere in case she didn't, but then she glanced around and caught his eye.

"Amazing, isn't it?" she said, stepping beside him. "This shop, all these products. I remember how upset Mrs. Weasley was when Fred and George quit school to open up this business, but they got the last laugh as usual, didn't they?"

"Their success doesn't really surprise me," Remus remarked, though he was surprised by Hermione's initiation of this conversation. She'd hardly spoken a word to him since the boggart incident, but he was glad she didn't shy away from him now. Maybe she truly wasn't afraid of him after all. "Even though they didn't always put forth the effort in their academics, it's always been clear that they're very bright and inventive with their magic."

"And they use their talents to purvey mischief, a bit like you and your friends when you were at school."

"I suppose. But they do it on a much grander and significantly more profitable scale. What's this?" Remus picked up a small glass object with a "Try me!" sticker attached. It looked similar to a Sneakoscope but it began to glow a strikingly bright purple color as it whirred like a spinning top upon his palm.

Hermione grabbed a box of the product, called an Amoroscope, and read aloud the description on the back. "'Ever wonder whether your friend is _really_ your friend or a backstabbing phony? Ever wonder if that girl you fancy has a thing for you as well? Ever wonder if you really _are_ invisible to that guy you're crazy about? If so, then the Amoroscope is for you! The Amoroscope senses the way people truly feel about you and tells you by the color it turns whether the person next to you is friend, enemy, love interest, or indifferent to you. The brighter the Amoroscope glows and the faster it spins, the stronger the person in question feels.'"

They both observed the Amoroscope whirling violently in his hand, Hermione biting her lip as she did so.

"What does purple mean?" Remus asked her.

She looked at the back of the box again, a touch of color creeping into her face. "Um, it says purple means… it means—"

A group of people crowded into the aisle around them just then, and Hermione was forced to step closer to him. Remus automatically shifted away from her. He'd been hyperaware and spatially cautious of her, careful to avoid any unnecessary physical contact between them even during the time it wasn't the full moon, ever since that incident in the Room of Requirement last month. He'd never felt so close to losing control to his wolfish instincts as he'd felt when they'd touched hands and he didn't fancy feeling that way again.

Hermione frowned as she glanced back down at the Amoroscope. "It doesn't matter what it means, does it? It's just a silly toy."

She shoved the box she was holding back onto its shelf, but before the curious Remus could respond, a vaguely familiar voice spoke from behind him, a voice he hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Remus _?_ Is that you?"

Remus turned around to find a tall man with auburn hair and beard squinting at him. He couldn't believe it. "Hugh?"

"Yeah! How have you been? Wow, I haven't seen you in ages! Since Hogwarts, right?" Remus's old schoolmate shook his hand enthusiastically, then turned his gaze upon Hermione. "Who's your friend?"

"This is a student of mine, Hermione Granger. Hermione, Hugh Hawthorne here was a Gryffindor a year ahead of me."

"Nice to meet you." Hermione smiled, but Remus thought it looked rather strained. "I think I'll go and let you two catch up."

"Oh no, I didn't mean to interrupt," Hugh said, looking between the pair of them.

"Not at all. I was actually just about to meet up with some friends of mine." Hermione gave Remus a pointed glance as she said the word 'friends.' Then, without looking in his direction again, she politely excused herself and went on her way. He stared after her, watching her disappear at the end of the aisle, and somehow felt as though he'd done something wrong. He tried to shake off that feeling as he talked to Hugh.

They ended up having drinks together at the Three Broomsticks, reminiscing about old times and catching up on each other's lives since graduation. He was astonished to learn that Hugh was currently romantically involved with a woman named Rosalind despite her being a werewolf, coincidentally a werewolf with which he himself had once been acquainted. He knew she did not have access to Wolfsbane Potion and thought it rather reckless of Hugh not to mind the danger. In fact, his old friend seemed to be one of those people Remus couldn't well understand: the rare type of person drawn to a werewolf, not in spite of their lycanthropy, but because of it. Still, when Hugh suggested they all get together for dinner sometime, he agreed they should keep in touch. It was nice to talk with an old friend — he didn't have many that were still alive.

Remus was on his way out of the Three Broomsticks, ready to return to Hogwarts, when somebody called out his name from the bar. Apparently, today was the day for running into people he hadn't seen in a while because Nymphadora Tonks rushed towards him, positively beaming. "I'm so glad I ran into you here! I was about to go up to the castle to look for you. Have a drink with me, will you? I've got some news to share."

And so Remus returned to the table he'd just vacated to sit with Tonks.

"Notice anything different about me?" she asked.

Her short spiky hair was her favored shade of bubblegum pink, her dark eyes were twinkling as usual… Remus didn't notice anything different about her appearance until Tonks wiggled the fingers on her left hand. A diamond glittered on her ring finger.

"You're engaged? Congratulations!"

Tonks squealed in delight. "Jackson asked me a few nights ago! And I just _had_ to come and tell you because you know how much this means to me after everything that's happened these past couple of years. You're the one who's had to hear all about Jackson since the very beginning. I apologize for all that girl talk you had to endure, by the way, but I had to tell someone!"

Remus smiled. What she said was true. He and Tonks had often been paired together on missions for the Order of the Phoenix, and during their downtime he'd listened courteously to all she had to say about her fellow Auror.

"I'm delighted for you, Tonks. Jackson seems like a good man."

"He's the best."

"Here you are," Madam Rosmerta said, setting down a glass of firewhiskey before Tonks. "Can I get anything else for you, Remus?"

"A butterbeer, please."

Madam Rosmerta nodded and started toward the bar again, but then turned back, snapping her fingers. "Remus — I forgot to tell you earlier — Vivienne came in here asking about you a few days ago. Haven't called her back since your last date, have you?"

"Well, no…" Remus said, surprised to hear that she'd asked about him. It had been a few weeks since they'd had drinks together and he thought she would have forgotten him by now.

Madam Rosmerta tutted at him teasingly.

"Who's Vivienne?" Tonks asked Remus, but it was Madam Rosmerta who answered.

"She's the curvy blonde woman who works at Honeydukes. All the men around her seem to have gone gaga over her." Madam Rosmerta rolled her eyes.

Tonks grinned. "So why haven't you called her back, Remus?"

Both women looked at him expectantly and he wasn't sure how to reply, how to explain to them that even though Vivienne was a gorgeous, vivacious, and intriguing woman with a sharp and wicked sense of humor, he simply wasn't interested in her. He couldn't even explain to himself why he wasn't interested. So instead he told them, not entirely untruthfully, "I've been too busy."

Tonks didn't buy it. "Busy with what exactly? Or should I ask, with _whom_?"

Remus glanced away from her probing gaze and, by chance, his eyes locked with Hermione's as she entered the pub. He quickly looked away from her.

* * *

"He definitely likes you," Ginny said to Hermione as they seated themselves at a table in the Three Broomsticks.

"We hardly even spoke."

"But I can tell. He's my brother, I know him. If he wasn't so busy with the grand opening, he would have been making a move on you."

"He doesn't like me," Hermione repeated stubbornly, mostly because she didn't want to believe it was true.

"Who doesn't like you?" Luna asked as she rejoined them with three glasses of butterbeer.

"George Weasley."

"Oh, but he does," the Ravenclaw said, and the certainty in her protuberant blue eyes startled Hermione.

"What makes you think that?"

Luna gave a lazy shrug. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

Ginny grinned at Hermione. "Told you. I wonder what Ron will say when he finds out. It's too bad he and Harry couldn't make it today. I could have really used some advice for the Quidditch match next week."

As the girls talked, Hermione regularly glanced over at the table Remus and Tonks were sharing. Remus was faced away from Hermione, but she had a clear view of Tonks. The Metamorphmagus spoke animatedly, her eyes alight with humor, and Remus appeared to be laughing.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Then she reminded herself that Remus and Tonks had worked together in the Order of the Phoenix and it was natural that they'd become friends. And it was perfectly normal for friends to get together for drinks. And even if Tonks occasionally touched the hand Remus rested on the table, it didn't mean there was anything more than friendship between them.

"…but she'll let me be commentator again if there are no other volunteers."

"I really hope so, Luna. You were a riot last time. Wasn't she, Hermione?"

"Yeah…a riot… Neville and I were in stitches," Hermione said distractedly, watching as Remus and Tonks rose from their table. The pink-haired witch flung her arms around Remus, and with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach Hermione watched as Tonks kissed him.

Butterbeer sloshed out of her glass as she clumsily lowered her drink onto the table, averting her eyes from the sight of Remus and Tonks. She found Ginny's questioning gaze upon her.

"What's up with you?"

"Do you think they're together?" Hermione blurted out. She couldn't stand the thought, but Remus and Tonks had spent all that time together in the Order. Something could have easily developed between them. And all those overnight missions…

"Who?" Ginny asked.

"Remus and Tonks. I just saw them kiss."

Ginny and Luna looked around at where the pair had been sitting but they'd already gone.

"On the lips?" Ginny asked in mild surprise.

"Yes! Well, maybe it was on the cheek. I couldn't see clearly."

"I don't think they're together," Ginny said, frowning thoughtfully. "Tonks was telling me over the summer about this Auror she was dating. She seemed really into him."

"So you think she's still with this Auror guy? Not with Remus?"

"You know what, Harry mentioned in a letter that he suspected Tonks was secretly dating his mentor Jackson! He said he caught them one time…"

Hermione hoped what Ginny was saying was true. She'd never much considered the possibility that Remus could be romantically involved with somebody else, but she winced inwardly as she thought about it now. Because she realized that although it had only been three months for her, for him it had actually been _two decades_ since their romance in the past had ended, since they'd shared their last night together before she'd returned to the present, and who knew how many women he had been with since then, in all this time they'd been apart...

"…so I'm pretty sure she's with Jackson, not Lupin," Ginny finished. "Why are you so interested, anyway?"

Hermione tried to sound as casual as possible as she said, "I just thought Remus and Tonks would make an odd couple."

Ginny agreed. "He's too old for her, isn't he?"

Hermione bit her lip, her friend's words a little jab to her gut, because she herself was several years younger than Tonks, so the age difference between her and Remus was much more significant, making them an even odder pairing…

Ginny steered the topic of conversation elsewhere but it did little to relieve Hermione. She was self-conscious of the way Luna was still watching her, and she hoped the perspicacious Ravenclaw couldn't see how upset she was by all this.

On their way back to the castle, Hermione only half listened to her friends' chatter. Her mind was on Remus and how he'd moved away from her when she'd been pushed toward him in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It was perfectly clear that he wanted to maintain an appropriate distance from her, physically and otherwise. He was as reserved as he'd always been. She'd been a fool to think he'd been beginning to see her as more than just a student. He didn't see her as a friend — his response to Hugh when he'd asked about her proved this: Remus had made sure to point out that she was his student, implying as he did so that they were nothing more. He could never see her as a real friend, much less as a woman, because she was too young for him.

Hermione excused herself from dinner and her friends early that evening, and alone in her dorm, she picked up the magic rose from her bedside table. As she stared at the vibrant red of the delicate petals and felt the soft hum of magic from the stem in her hands, she wished she could be back in the past with the teenage Remus.

Then a sudden, ghastly thought struck her: what if the rose had actually meant for her to stay in the past?

When Dumbledore had explained to her his theory of how the rose's magic had been born and why it had sent her to the past, he'd also told her he believed that the magic would not return her home. He believed the rose did not intend to send her back to her proper time, but she had come back anyway. She'd used the Time-Turner Dumbledore had acquired from the Ministry of Magic and left her life in the past, left the life that had been starting to feel more real to her than her life in the future, left the life in which she and Remus were together and happy. Even though Dumbledore had told her that she always had a choice, she could choose not to use the Time-Turner and to stay in the past with the younger Remus, she'd decided to leave, believing she had to or else the timeline of events would change too much.

But what if she'd chosen wrong? Her stomach twisted. What if she actually belonged in the past? What if the rose hadn't sent her back in time for the reason she'd previously believed — as a means for her to realize the true nature of her feelings for Remus and his for her — but because it was the only way for her and Remus to be together? What if a relationship between them now in the present situation was impossible? She'd known all along that it'd be difficult for Remus to look past the age difference and their student/teacher relationship, but what if he _never_ allowed anything romantic to happen between them because of those reasons? Or worse, what if the Remus she knew now simply didn't have and would never have feelings for her like his younger self had?

Maybe that was why the rose had attempted to help her. It had tried to make it so that she could be happy with the man she loved — but she'd acted against its master plan. She'd foolishly thrown away the incredible opportunity the rose had offered her.

Hermione sank down onto her bed as cold comprehension washed over her, crushing her heart with the force of a tidal wave. She'd wrecked everything by returning to the present time. She'd ruined the magic, ruined her chance at ever being with Remus.


	26. Chapter 26

Gryffindor trounced Slytherin in the Quidditch match Saturday morning. The scarlet-robed players outhustled their opposition in every way from the first whistle signaling the start of the match to the point when Ginny Weasley finally caught sight of the elusive Snitch. The Gryffindor Seeker chased after the golden blur, speeding toward the section of the stands where most of the teachers sat. She flew dangerously close to the professors beneath her before pulling up again, the fluttering silver wings of the Snitch peeking out of the fist she triumphantly raised into the air.

The jubilant cries of victory from the Gryffindors were joined by the tickled cheers from the other houses, amused to have seen their professors diving clear of Ginny's path in alarm. Remus and most of his colleagues applauded good-humoredly along with their students — even McGonagall cracked a smile — but a couple of professors, including Professor Avila beside him, looked none too pleased by Ginny's daring capture.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team, with their Seeker atop their shoulders and fellow members of their house surrounding them, boisterously made their way off the pitch and toward the castle. As their Head of House, Remus hoped their celebrations didn't get out of hand. He knew, however, that as long as Hermione was with them he didn't have to worry. She'd undoubtedly keep their celebrations in check.

He looked for her distinctive mane of curly brown hair in the throng of students ahead of him, but he didn't see her anywhere. He hadn't spotted her in the stands earlier either. Had she even attended the match? She must have. The whole school was out here.

Remus followed the Gryffindors into the castle, but their paths diverged as he headed toward his office. He'd nearly reached it when the cackling and whooping Peeves came hurtling toward him in the corridor, a book bag dangling from his hand. Only when Peeves passed him by did Remus realize it wasn't just anybody's book bag — it was Hermione's.

A second later, the harassed-looking Head Girl came running up the corridor. She pointed her wand at Peeves who swerved to avoid her spell, dropping her bag as he did so. Books, parchment, quills, and ink spilled to the floor making Hermione groan in frustration and Peeves squeal with delight. That delight promptly turned into pain and protest, however, when Remus drew his wand and blasted the poltergeist away from the scene before he could do any more damage.

Hermione wearily knelt down on the floor to gather her scattered belongings, and Remus hurried forward to help her.

"Thank you," she said as he passed over a few of her books. She stuffed them into her bag while he cleaned up the mess of her spilled ink, and then they both reached for the quill lying between them at the same time.

Before either could grasp it, though, Peeves returned, swooping down toward them and blowing a loud raspberry in their faces. He started to soar away again to evade Remus and Hermione's curses, but then he suddenly came to an abrupt halt, his eyes going round as he stared down at the pair of them. Tilting his head to the side, Peeves looked curiously between one and the other.

"Moony…and Frizzy…" A cheeky grin spread across the poltergeist's face and he chortled with glee. "Kissy kissssyyyyyyy! Ha ha ha!"

Remus froze, then glanced at Hermione, whose face had gone pink. Avoiding his gaze, she quickly ducked down again and continued gathering her things. Peeves, meanwhile, did cartwheels through the air before shooting away down the corridor, his shrieks of laughter echoing off the walls. Remus stared after him, wondering what that was all about. Then he shook his head. There probably was no rhyme or reason — it was just Peeves being Peeves.

Remus turned back to Hermione to help her collect the rest of her things. He saw her quill still lying on the floor beside him. As he picked it up, he was reminded of another time, a few years back during his first teaching stint at Hogwarts, when Hermione's books had fallen out of her bag at the end of his class and he'd returned the quill that had tumbled over to his desk. And just like then he looked at Hermione now and was troubled by the sadness tainting her features, a sadness he'd caught glimpses of more than once over the last few days.

"Are you all right?" he asked her as he handed over her quill.

"Yeah. Peeves was just being Peeves," she sighed, echoing his earlier thoughts. She heaved her bag up over her shoulder and got to her feet. Remus followed suit, becoming more concerned as he took a closer look at her and noticed her slightly swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

"No, I mean, is everything all right with you?"

As if realizing how she must look, she self-consciously ran a hand through her hair and lowered her gaze. "I'm just tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. I was studying late."

Studying or crying? He searched her face, sure she was lying to him. "Where are you off to?"

"The library."

"I thought you'd be in the common room celebrating the big win with the rest of the Gryffindors."

"We won? That's great."

"You weren't at the match?"

"Er, no, I was catching up on some homework."

No wonder he hadn't spotted her in the stands. His worry grew.

"I really should get going," she said, starting past him. "I still have a lot of studying to do."

"Hermione, are you sure everything's all right?" he asked again, making her pause.

"Yeah. Everything's fine." Her eyes told a different story, but she muttered "excuse me" and swiftly continued past him.

"Wait — your homework," he said on impulse, making her stop reluctantly once more. He didn't feel right just letting her walk off alone like this when, despite what she said, she'd obviously been crying. "I wanted to have a word with you about the essay you turned in this week."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I think you may have misinterpreted something I said in lecture. We could go over it in my office now if you like. It shouldn't take long."

She hesitated but then gave him a small nod.

As they walked the short distance to his office, Remus glanced over at the silent and pensive Hermione, wishing she would talk to him, wishing things could be like they were before between them. But for the past couple of weeks she'd been distant and awkward whenever she was around him. At first he'd thought it was because of her boggart, but now he suspected it was something else that was affecting her. He just wished he knew what it was so then maybe he could help her.

In his office, he quickly found Hermione's essay amongst the others on his desk and handed it over to her, explaining where she'd gone wrong. She read through the section he pointed out.

"Oh, I see what I did… But you gave me full marks." She shot him a questioning look.

"You were, as always, very thorough in your research for this assignment. You added in more information than what was required and the bit you got mixed up on was part of that extra information. I just wanted to make sure you understood that concept because it'll likely come up on a later exam."

"I understand," she said and began reading more of her essay, perhaps checking if any other part of it was below her impossibly high standard. "I was probably just a bit distracted when I wrote this."

"I've noticed you have been a bit preoccupied in class lately." Preoccupied and subdued. He hadn't seen her usual enthusiasm during lessons, and he'd missed the brightness in her eyes and smile these last two weeks. Taking this opportunity to try once more to figure out what was upsetting her, he said, "Hermione, if there's something that's troubling you… if you want to talk… I could make us some tea."

Her eyes went still on her essay. Then she slowly lowered the parchment and turned her gaze to his. Sadness tainted her features once again as she looked at him long and hard, but this time she didn't try to pretend it wasn't present when she replied.

"Thank you, Remus. Really. But this isn't about a school-related matter. It's…personal."

"Whatever it is, I'm here if you want to talk."

The invitation seemed to cause her an intense internal struggle, but he could see in her eyes she wanted to speak.

"Please, Hermione, sit down. I'll make some tea."

Without waiting for a response, he began rummaging around for his kettle even though he half expected Hermione to flee from the room while his back was turned. But when he turned around again, she was, as he'd hoped, sitting in the chair before his desk.

Moments later, he set down a steaming cup before her and took a seat across from her with his own mug.

He waited patiently as she stirred sugar into her tea, her gaze downcast, careful not to look at him. Then, after she'd taken a sip and fiddled with her spoon a bit, she finally began to speak.

"Something has been troubling me," she said quietly, tentatively. "But it's… well… it's boy trouble."

His eyebrows rose. He hadn't expected that to be the issue at all. It hadn't even occurred to him that that could be it, and it was his turn to fidget now because this was definitely not his area of expertise.

Hermione glanced up at him, looking uncertain, and though he wasn't exactly comfortable with this subject, he couldn't turn her away now that she'd decided to confide in him. So he did his best to look unfazed and asked, "What's the problem?"

Again, she took some time to answer, and when she did, she did so hesitantly and continued to avoid his eyes, focusing instead on the cup she cradled in her hands.

"There's this guy I really like." Remus tensed, his mug raised halfway to his lips. "We used to date," she continued softly, "but things ended between us recently. And it's my fault. I made some mistakes and messed things up, and now I'm afraid we'll never get back together."

"Who's the guy? Is he a Gryffindor?" Remus asked before he could stop himself. Why on earth did it matter who the guy was?

She glanced at him guardedly. "He's…not a student here. He's a bit older than me."

Remus put his mug back down on his desk without taking a drink, wondering who this guy could be. Then he pushed those thoughts aside, reminding himself it wasn't important and it wasn't any of his business either.

"Have you talked to him about what happened, about these mistakes you say you've made?"

She shook her head, a hint of panic in her expression. "No, I couldn't. I'm afraid he wouldn't understand what happened, why I did what I did… I'm afraid he wouldn't forgive me."

What mistakes had she committed to make her feel so guilty? Certainly she couldn't have done anything too bad. This was Hermione after all. "If this guy cares for you, then surely he'd give you a chance—"

"Would you?" She looked into his eyes directly now, her own almost pleading him. "I mean, if the person you were with did something you didn't agree with but her intentions weren't bad, would you forgive her?"

Her question, which he thought was a rather personal one, took him aback. Still, he considered the vague, hypothetical scenario and answered as honestly as he could. "I suppose it depends on the situation and the reasons behind her actions, but I think I'd forgive her if she were someone I really cared about."

"That's the thing," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm afraid he doesn't care for me anymore. And he doesn't even realize I have feelings for him now, like I did in the past…"

"Hermione, I think you should talk to this guy and tell him how you feel."

"But… I'm _afraid_ …"

Her voice broke, and something inside Remus seemed to as well. The full extent of her distress was undisguised now, in her tone and in her expression, and it afflicted him deeply. He hardly knew what he said next as he struggled to remain calm amid his own distress at the sight of her eyes beginning to glitter with tears.

"Sometimes you need to let go of your fears and take a risk in order to be happy. Make yourself vulnerable. If you've only recently broken up, there's a good chance he still has feelings for you. Maybe he's just afraid of getting hurt, too."

"But what if he doesn't? What if he doesn't feel anything for me anymore?"

"You won't know unless you talk with him. I think that's the best way to work things out."

"But what if we can't? What if he doesn't want me anywhere near him after what I did?"

"Then it'd be entirely his loss, Hermione." And he meant it. Hermione was a special girl — incredibly brave, clever, and driven, and beautiful, one of the most kindhearted and compassionate people he'd ever met — the kind of girl this guy would be a fool to let go.

But his words only seemed to bring her more anguish. The tears brimming her eyes spilled over her lashes. "No, it'd be mine."

She stood up in a hurry and Remus, emotions in disarray, mirrored her movement. He caught her arm just before she reached the door. "Hermione…"

She slowly faced him, slowly raised her gaze to meet his, and looking into her eyes he could somehow feel her sorrow acutely, as if it were his own. He couldn't think of what to say, what to do.

She pulled away from him, out the door, and he stood there rooted to the spot, wrestling with feelings he didn't quite understand.

* * *

Hermione blundered towards her dorm, fresh guilt eating away at her conscience from her latest conversation with Remus. Why had she talked to him about all of that, about _them_? What had she been thinking?

As she approached the Head Girl's dormitory, she saw Ginny waiting for her in the corridor outside.

"Where have you been, Hermione?" she demanded. "I really needed you earlier and — what's wrong?" Her expression quickly changed from one of frustration to one of concern.

Hermione shook her head, sobbing, and stumbled into her dorm. An alarmed Ginny followed after her.

"Hermione, what's going on?"

"Remus," she whispered.

"Remus? Has — has something happened to him?"

"Ginny…" Hermione sank down onto the sofa, pulling her friend down with her. "I — I need to t-tell you something…"

"What, Hermione? What is it?"

Hermione tried to take deep breaths, tried to calm herself enough to speak intelligibly. She hadn't planned on telling anybody about the magic rose and her time traveling experience, about what had happened between her and Remus in the past, but she couldn't deal with this on her own any longer. She couldn't hold it in anymore. She needed to tell somebody, she had to.

So she did. She told Ginny everything. She told her about Remus giving her the rose at Harry's birthday party, how she'd woken up in his arms twenty years in the past, how they'd quickly become friends despite their awkward first encounter. She told her all about their increasingly warm friendship, their kindling romance, their first kiss, and everything that followed. Ginny listened incredulously the whole while, her eyes ever-widening, her jaw dropping and hand clapping to her mouth when Hermione described her last night with the teenage Remus. And when Hermione at last finished recounting her tale, both girls had tears in their eyes.

"Your jumper," Ginny whispered through her fingers after a long, stunned silence. "The morning after Harry's birthday, you were wearing that jumper… It was _his_?"

Hermione nodded.

"Merlin's beard… I knew something was up with you that morning, but I didn't… Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I just — I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"Hermione…" Ginny wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tightly. " _I'm_ sorry. I should have realized… Oh, but it all makes sense now. Oh, no—" She pulled back, looking at Hermione apologetically. "What I said about Lupin and Tonks in the Three Broomsticks—"

"It's all right, Ginny. You were right. I know there's a big age difference—"

"No, Hermione. If you guys love each other, then age shouldn't matter! It's just a number."

"But he _doesn't_ love me. He doesn't even know we were ever together! His feelings for me disappeared along with his memories and there's no way we can be together now, not with the way things are here."

"You don't think it's possible? You don't think he might have feelings for you now?"

Hermione miserably replied in the negative.

"Are you sure? He hasn't said or done anything at all that's made you think he might?"

"No. Well… I don't know!" Hermione threw her arms up in frustration. "Most of the time I think he doesn't, but sometimes… sometimes there are moments when it feels like it did back then between us."

"Then there's a possibility," Ginny told her bracingly. "Like Dumbledore said when you were discussing the rose: Lupin's heart is the same regardless of the time or circumstances."

Hermione shook her head, not knowing what to think anymore.

"May I see the rose?" Ginny asked tentatively.

Hermione led her friend to her bedroom and handed her the magic rose. Ginny held it gingerly as she examined it, then brought the flower to her face.

"What does it smell like to you?" Hermione asked.

"It just smells like a rose." Ginny studied it a few moments longer before a look of comprehension crossed her face. "This is the rose I teased you about on your birthday, isn't it? Lupin was the one who gave it to you..." She looked up at Hermione. "Is that…?"

Hermione nodded. She had taken out of her nightstand drawer the necklace Remus had given her for Christmas and the photograph Lily had taken of them sitting by the fireplace. Ginny silently mouthed the words "be silently drawn" as she examined the necklace, and once she'd had a good long look at the moving photograph, she turned to her friend and said breathlessly, "Wow, Hermione."

"It's been so hard, Ginny, to go from _that_ to not being able to kiss him or hold his hand or even stand too close… Why does he have to be my teacher? He'd never be able to look at me like that now!"

"Have you thought about showing this to him? Have you considered telling him about what happened between you in the past?"

"No, no, I couldn't…" she said in panic and told Ginny about her terrible encounter with the boggart-Remus.

"But that was just a boggart, Hermione. It knew your worst fear and it magnified it, but that doesn't mean the real Lupin would react that way."

"But he could. And he'd have a right to. I'm afraid I've ruined everything, Ginny. I — I don't know what to do anymore." Hermione slumped down onto her bed, her head in her hands.

"Dumbledore said he believed that Lupin had unacknowledged feelings for you in this time," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Well, you'll just have to make him acknowledge them now."

Hermione peered up at her friend bleakly. "And how am I supposed to do that?" It sounded so simple, but much easier said than done.

Ginny sat on the bed facing her. "To begin with, I think you should stop beating yourself up over what's already happened because you can't change any of that. And I think you should stop focusing on what might keep you guys apart. Think about what brought you together in the first place. And get closer to him. Stop acting like there are any barriers between you. I think that's the only way he'll be able to look past them too."

Hermione slowly straightened up, considering her friend's suggestions. "That makes sense."

Ginny passed her back the rose. "Hermione, I think the fact that this rose exists, that it's still alive after all this time and after everything that's happened, it _means_ something. You shouldn't give up. The magic is still there."

Hermione breathed in the rose's comforting scent, felt the hum of its energy tickle her fingers. It _was_ still alive, which meant the magic still existed…

Ginny's words gave her hope that maybe, just maybe there was a possibility with Remus after all.

* * *

 **A/N:** Happier chapters are coming, I promise :)

As always, thank you for reading and thanks so much for your lovely reviews!


	27. Chapter 27

Hermione shivered as she stepped out of the castle with Ginny and into the bitter chill of the winter. It was mid-December and the school grounds were covered in snow.

"You're really going to practice in this weather?" she asked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain incredulously, readjusting her scarf and pulling her cloak more tightly around herself to keep the bite of cold at bay.

"We practice snow or shine," Ginny replied, a blazing look of determination on her face. "We need to train harder now more than ever if we want to make sure we win the Quidditch Cup this year. And we have to win, even if that means upping the number of practices per week. Maybe adding a couple more morning training sessions would do us good — the team won't like that, but we need to do whatever it takes to get the Cup."

"You're starting to sound like Oliver Wood."

"Thanks. I hear he's doing well playing for Puddlemere United."

They started across the grounds, making a new trail in the snow. Ginny gazed out thoughtfully at the pale gray and white horizon before looking back at Hermione. "You'll be coming to my house for Christmas, won't you?"

"I don't know. My parents really want me to spend the holidays with them."

"They're always welcome at the Burrow, too. You should all come."

"Thanks, but we're going to be staying with some relatives. You know, catching up with some family we haven't seen since I modified my parents' memories and sent them to Australia."

"Do you think you could maybe join us just for Christmas Eve and spend the rest of the holiday with your family? Mum invited some people over to celebrate with us: Luna and her dad, Hagrid, Lupin…" Ginny smiled as Hermione glanced at her with heightened interest. "Things seem to be going well between you two. You're always in a happy mood whenever you come back from disappearing to his office and doing whatever it is that you do when you get together."

"We discuss the Defense Club and prepare for the next meeting, you know that."

"Hmmm…are all those meetings between you two really necessary? Or is it just his clever excuse to see you alone outside of class?"

Hermione smiled, knowing Ginny was just trying to keep her optimistic. But the truth was that everything really _was_ going well with Remus. The spark of hope that had renewed in her after talking with Ginny about everything that had transpired between her and Remus in the past had gotten stronger in the few weeks since that conversation, stronger with the more time she spent with Remus preparing for Defense Club. She was only sad that tonight's meeting with him would be the final one before the holidays.

"Anyway," Ginny continued, "if he comes to our house for Christmas Eve, don't you think it'd be a good opportunity for you to spend some quality time with him outside the school environment?"

Hermione considered this wonderful prospect but refused to commit herself just yet. Instead she said, "And Harry will be there, too, right? I assume you two are planning to spend every minute that you can together while you're home from school."

"Yeah. Of course."

Hermione frowned slightly, finding Ginny's tone strange. Neither of them had seen Harry since her birthday, so she was surprised by her friend's lack of enthusiasm. "I thought you'd be more excited than that."

Ginny readjusted the bag of Quidditch gear hanging from her shoulder. "I'm more nervous than anything else, to be honest."

"Why?"

"Because we haven't seen each other in months and I'm afraid things might feel weird between us. I'm afraid he might realize his feelings for me have changed."

"They haven't. Harry will be as crazy about you as ever, even more so since you haven't seen each other in so long and he obviously misses you. That's why he writes to you so much. More than he's written to me, by the way, which I'm going to have a word with him about. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

"I hope so," Ginny sighed as she and Hermione reached the point where they would go their separate ways. "Tell Hagrid I said hi."

Hermione watched as her friend headed toward the Quidditch pitch and pitied her and the other poor Gryffindors who had to practice out in the freezing cold while she would be drinking tea in Hagrid's cozy hut.

* * *

Remus avoided Honeydukes during his trip to Hogsmeade for some supplies, but he ended up running into Vivienne anyway. He quite literally bumped into her as he exited one of the shops.

"Hey there, stranger," she greeted coolly, and he got the impression she was slightly miffed that he'd never sought her out after they'd had drinks together a couple of months ago. He felt obliged to apologize and make up an excuse, after which she gave him an easy smile and told him, "I expect you'll make it up to me after the holidays."

Remus was glad she didn't have time to chat.

He plodded through the snow back to Hogwarts, lost in thought. That's why when he reached the castle grounds and felt something cold strike his chest, he didn't immediately realize what it was. He looked around and found Hermione a few yards away from him, smiling, a sphere of white in her black gloves. Had she just thrown a snowball at him?

"Hermione," he said sternly, "do not forget I am your teacher. I could give you detention for that."

Her smile faltered and Remus took advantage of the moment to swiftly scoop up a snowball of his own and aim it at her. She didn't react fast enough to dodge the unexpected hit. However, taking his action and the grin that accompanied it as permission, she recovered well by slinging at him the ready-made weapon in her hands. The battle was on.

The pair crisscrossed the lonely grounds, running, ducking, feinting, and casting snowballs with varying degrees of accuracy. They playfully challenged each other out into the open when one of them took cover behind a tree and teased each other with laughter when their shots hit their mark.

Remus couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun, or the last time he'd had a snowball fight. It had to have been years and years ago, perhaps even as far back as his schooldays. He remembered one snowball fight in particular during his seventh year when all his friends had ganged up on him at one point. Having Hermione as his only adversary now was significantly less overwhelming.

She was clever, though, even in her play. When they were near the Great Lake, she aimed a snowball at the tree over his head and the snow that had gathered on the branches fell onto him before he could move away. He shook the cold out of his hair, then chased after Hermione and the sound of her pleasant laughter. He'd nearly caught up to her when she turned to throw another snowball at him and got tripped up. She tumbled to the ground, sinking deep into the snow.

Remus rushed over to her in concern as she struggled to sit up. But when she looked up at him, she grinned.

"You've still got snow in your hair."

He laughed, amazed that she could be so amused by that when she herself was buried in the snow. "So do you. In fact, you're covered in snow."

"Help me up, then, will you?" She held out her hand. "I'm freezing."

Remus pulled her out of the snowy blanket that had enveloped her, but she somehow lost her footing again. She stumbled into him, clutching his coat to keep from falling, while he instinctively caught her around the waist. And in that moment, as he held her in his steadying embrace during this respite from their spirited winter battle, a strong sense of déjà vu struck him. But it was forgotten nearly as soon as it had registered.

The wind picked up just as suddenly, and viciously, blowing bitter cold and fresh snow all around them. Remus took no notice. All he felt as he stood huddled with Hermione amid the swirling white flurry was the tingling warmth of her hands on his chest. He gazed down at her lovely face pink with cold, close enough to see himself in the chocolate brown eyes searching his, the light freckles on her nose. A strand of her unruly hair danced in front of her delicate features and he gently brushed it back. The movement felt so natural to him, like he'd done it many times before. Holding her in his arms like this felt so natural, and comforting — until he realized he'd been holding her for much longer than was necessary and appropriate.

He backed away from her quickly, feeling dazed, just as Hagrid came trudging his way through the snow to them, shooting them both a vaguely questioning look.

"All righ', Remus?" he said before turning to Hermione. "You forgot yer bag."

"Oh, thank you, Hagrid."

Hagrid made a comment about how the new snowstorm that was brewing would be arriving soon and raging all night. He advised them to make haste to the castle. Remus and Hermione heeded his words.

With snowflakes kissing their faces and the whipping and howling wind assailing them all the way, the pair raced toward the refuge of the castle. Then, exhausted and wet and frozen to the core, they hurried up to Remus's office where the inviting warmth of the fire awaited them.

They took off their cloaks and stood side by side before the fireplace, Hermione shivering and Remus attempting to reorient himself after the moment that had passed between them minutes ago. An unfamiliar feeling had seeped into his consciousness and it disconcerted him not to understand exactly what it was. He slanted his gaze down at Hermione just as she glanced up at him.

"Will you be going to the Burrow for Christmas Eve?" she asked, her face softly illuminated by the shifting glow of the flames.

Remus shook his previous thoughts from his mind and remembered the letter Molly Weasley had sent him, insisting that he join them or else she'd be mightily offended. "I am. I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to enjoy Molly's fine cooking. And the Burrow, of course, is a wonderful place to be, especially during the holidays. The Weasleys are somehow always able to make you feel as though you're part of the family."

"I know what you mean. Harry, Ginny, all of them — they're like the siblings I never had. And, you know, I think they do consider us to be part of the family."

"So will you be going as well?"

"Yes, I think I will."

Remus could see that she was still trembling slightly and pulled out his wand.

"Here, this will be faster," he said and touched his wand to her sleeve, making her clothes instantly warm and dry.

Her shivering ceased at once. "Ooh, thank you."

Remus performed the same spell on himself, and when he glanced again at Hermione, he found her eyeing the black scarf around his neck with interest. Feeling self-conscious, he moved away from her, away from the crackling fire, and took a seat behind his desk. The scarf he wore was faded and frayed like the rest of his shabby clothing. To be fair, though, it was in terrific shape considering how old it was. He'd gotten it as a Christmas gift when he was seventeen, and he'd always taken great care of it. It was his favorite — cozy and soft, with his name stitched in silver at one end — but, funnily enough, he couldn't remember who had knit it for him.

Hermione joined him at his desk and they began to discuss their plans for the final Defense Club meeting of this term — the reason for their get-together this evening. As they talked, Remus couldn't help but notice how different the Head Girl was now compared to when she'd been in his office a few weeks ago. She'd been brokenhearted and teary-eyed then while the girl who sat before him presently was lighthearted and beaming, a stark contrast but a very welcome one. He was glad she was in better spirits.

He supposed that her boy trouble troubled her no more. She must have worked things out with Viktor Krum — the guy he surmised she'd been talking about that day. Krum matched the description she'd given anyway: he wasn't a student at Hogwarts, he was older than her, and they'd dated in the past. Remus had also remembered when coming to this conclusion the comment that Ron Weasley had made on Hermione's birthday about her and the famous Quidditch player writing long letters to each other, and it all seemed to fit. He didn't like Krum for Hermione one bit, but he had to admit she seemed happy. He'd been a witness to the gradual uplifting of her spirits the last few weeks and that change was likely attributed to an improvement in her relationship.

But he could only guess. Hermione hadn't mentioned anything about her boy trouble or Krum since that day, though they'd talked about many things besides. Their conversation during these meetings tended to have a lot of digressions. He had no idea how they'd gotten onto the topic of skiing this evening, but after Hermione described her atrocious attempt in France a few years ago, Remus began telling her about his own skiing adventure with Sirius and James one winter holiday.

A knock on the door interrupted his anecdote.

"Come in," Remus said.

The door swung open, revealing Professor McGonagall holding some sort of object wrapped up in a sheet of cloth. She began to speak but then caught sight of Hermione.

"Miss Granger — what are you doing here so late?" she asked in surprise.

Remus checked his watch and started: it was half an hour past curfew.

"We were discussing our plans for the next Defense Club meeting," he answered before Hermione could. "I lost track of time. I apologize."

"It was my fault, Professor," Hermione said, glancing at him. "I had a lot of questions, and, well, sorry for taking up so much of your time."

McGonagall watched her quickly grab her bag and exit the room, then turned back to Remus.

"When you get a chance, could you take a look at this?" The Headmistress carefully uncovered the wrapped up object to show him. "I fear it may be traced with Dark Magic."

McGonagall began to explain how she'd come across the suspicious item and spoke not another word about Hermione, yet Remus experienced a twinge of uneasiness under the Headmistress's gaze. He tried to ignore it. After all, he hadn't meant to keep Hermione past her curfew. It had been an innocent mistake. Why, then, did he feel so guilty?


	28. Chapter 28

"We're going too fast! We're going to crash!"

"No, we're not. Just lean when I lean."

Hermione did as George Weasley told her and let him steer them expertly, if a bit recklessly, up and down the snowy hills near the Burrow. They traveled at high speed in a sled powered by magic, narrowly missing the scattered trees along their path, and he was laughing and whooping with glee while she clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Only when they finally came to a stop did Hermione give a shaky laugh in relief that the ride was over. She gratefully climbed off the sled and found George grinning at her. She sobered at once.

"Don't tell me you weren't having fun just now," he said.

"You mean when I wasn't fearing for my life? I don't know how I let you guys talk me into doing that." Hermione brushed the snow from her coat and jeans. When she glanced up at him again, George was still looking at her in amusement. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, all innocence. "Nothing at all."

"Okay. It was a little bit fun," she admitted grudgingly. "But there's no way I'm doing it again. It's too dangerous."

"That's fair. At least you gave it a try." He stepped towards her then, and she froze as he raised his hand to her hair. "You had some snow," he said in response to her questioning eyes.

"Oh. Well, thanks," she said awkwardly, thinking of Remus and subtly shifting away from the Weasley.

George's expression turned serious as he gazed at her. "Hermione, have you ever thought—?"

A scream of exhilaration interrupted his question. Hermione turned around just as Ron and Luna came zooming into view on their own sled. They couldn't have appeared at a more welcome time for her. She was nearly certain now that what Ginny had been telling her about George fancying her was right.

When she told her this as they walked apart from the others on their way back to the Burrow, Ginny wasn't surprised to be proven correct. "He asked me earlier, very casually in conversation, if you were dating anybody."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him you were sort of involved with someone and asked him why he wanted to know. He just said he was curious and then changed the topic. But I wouldn't put it past him to try to corner you later and ask you out."

Hermione still couldn't fathom why George would be interested in her, but she put off musing that mystery and said to Ginny, "Everything seems great between you and Harry. You seem as in love as ever."

"Yeah, you were right. I was worrying for nothing. He told me these past few months have been really hard for him too, so we just want to make the most of the holidays before I have to go back to school." After plowing their way through the snow a few more feet, Ginny added, "You and Lupin should do the same. Maybe, when he comes later, you can get him on his own and talk." Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "Or maybe do more than talk."

"Ginny!"

"Just saying. You never know what might happen tonight."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Why do I get the feeling you're up to something?"

"Because you know me too well."

"What are you—?"

"You'll find out soon enough," she replied with an impish grin.

Hermione, Harry, Luna, and the youngest four Weasleys reached the Burrow just as Hagrid was arriving. They all gathered in the living room where a beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood tall and festive in the corner, stockings hung from the mantel above the blazing fire, and garlands of holly joined gold and silver streamers around the room.

Everyone was in merry spirits, but as time passed and Remus still hadn't arrived, Hermione began to worry that he wouldn't show up this evening. It wasn't until about half an hour later as she stepped away from her friends' chatter and into the kitchen to fetch more butterbeers for everyone that he finally arrived. She'd just loaded into her arms as many butterbeers as she could carry when Mrs. Weasley, who had been shooting annoyed looks at her daughter-in-law, Fleur, who was apparently trying to take over the dinner preparations, looked out the window and announced, "Remus is here!"

In her excitement, Hermione dropped a butterbeer and knocked to the floor the silver platter that had been on the counter beside her. She cursed silently at the mess she'd made — the nerves she sometimes felt around Remus often made her nearly as clumsy as Tonks.

While she did her best to quickly clean up her mess, she heard Fleur and Mrs. Weasley scramble to the door to greet Remus. To Mrs. Weasley's further annoyance, Fleur got there first.

"Eet is good to see you again, Remus! Oh, you didn't 'ave to… Let me take zat for you."

"I'm so glad you could make it, Remus. Happy Christmas Eve!"

Hermione set the butterbeers on the counter along with the platter she'd knocked to the ground and turned to the door where Mrs. Weasley was giving Remus a hug. He stepped toward Hermione next, flashing her a warm smile, and she beamed in return. He looked especially handsome this evening, perhaps because it had been a while since she'd last seen him. It'd been nearly a week — much too long in her opinion.

"Hi, Remus."

"Happy Christmas Eve, Hermione." He came in for a hug, and spurred by her nervous energy Hermione did something without thinking: she kissed him on the cheek, catching them both off guard.

Her face felt warm as she pulled away from him, but fortunately a distraction came in the form of Harry.

"Hermione, where—?" Harry started, but then he caught sight of the new arrival. "Remus! How have you been?" he said, coming forward to shake his hand.

"Fantastic," Remus replied just as cheerfully. "And you? I hear you've been excelling in your Auror training."

The pair moved into the living room to talk and Hermione followed.

"Where's the butter — Oh," Ginny said, spotting Remus and grinning. "I see you've brought something better instead. No matter. It looks like Ron and Luna have forgotten all about the butterbeer they wanted." Hermione followed the redhead's gaze, which had roamed over to the pair talking and laughing by the busily-ornamented Christmas tree. "Hey, you don't think…?" Ginny whispered, her eyebrows rising incredulously. " _Ron and Luna…?_ "

It certainly did look like something was developing between them. Hermione shrugged and smiled. "Crazier things have happened."

A short while later, Mrs. Weasley and Fleur announced that dinner was ready. The party managed to seat themselves comfortably enough in the tight quarters of the kitchen, Ginny slyly maneuvering them all so that Hermione ended up sitting next to Remus, and they enjoyed a delightful and delicious dinner in which laughter erupted around the table more and more frequently as the bottles of wine and firewhiskey steadily depleted.

Afterwards, Hermione passed up a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny, Harry, Fred, and George and instead joined Remus and Bill's conversation about a controversial article on goblins that had recently appeared in the Daily Prophet. Their discussion was cut short, however, when Fleur rolled her eyes and gave a dramatic sigh as Mrs. Weasley tuned into the Christmas broadcast by her favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck. While Bill hurried over to the pair of testy witches to smooth things over, Hermione caught Remus's eye and laughed.

"It seems this has become a Christmas tradition for the Weasley family," he said, watching the scene play out between Bill, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley.

"Speaking of Christmas traditions…" Hermione got up from her seat to retrieve a present from under the Christmas tree. She handed it to Remus upon her return. "I know we're not supposed to open gifts until morning, but I won't be here tomorrow — I'm spending Christmas with my parents — so I thought you could open the present I got you now."

She watched as Remus happily obliged and unwrapped his gift to reveal a book of poetry by Rumi.

"I thought of you when I saw this in the bookshop," she told him as he studied the beautiful, richly colored cover. The words that were engraved on the necklace Remus had given her for Christmas in the past, "be silently drawn," had been taken from a poem by Rumi, so she figured he was a fan of his work.

Remus glanced up at her, looking amazed. "So you're familiar with Rumi?"

"Yes. I've been reading a lot of him lately. Do you like it?"

He chuckled in response. "Wait a moment. I'd like you to open my gift for you."

He strode over to the Christmas tree and returned with her present. Hermione tore off the wrapping to uncover… a lightly worn copy of a book of Rumi's poetry. She raised her eyebrows in the same astonishment Remus had shown.

He smiled. "I thought you might enjoy it, and I suppose I was right. I especially like this translation and particular collection of poems, but I couldn't find another copy of the book, so I thought I'd give you mine."

Hermione opened the book and found a name written inside in elegantly looping letters. "Hope Howell?"

"My mother. It used to belong to her. She was a big fan of Rumi. When my father was courting her, he gave her a necklace he'd had specially engraved with a phrase from one of Rumi's poems. It was one of her most treasured possessions."

Hermione froze — was the necklace his father had given his mother the same one Remus had given her when he was seventeen? It had to be... She'd had no idea it had once belonged to his mother.

She gazed at the man before her, her heart swelling. Because she realized his gift had been more personal than she'd thought. She imagined the necklace must have meant something special to him since it had belonged to his late mother and probably represented to him the love between his parents, and the fact that he'd decided to give it to her…

Remus must have felt her staring because he stopped leafing through the pages of the book she'd given him and looked up at her again.

"That's sweet," she managed to say, her voice a bit thick with emotion. "The necklace… Thank you, Remus." He gave her a questioning look, and she quickly added, "For the book. I love it."

Hermione wondered if he could see in her eyes how incredibly touched she was by his gifts, how it meant much more to her than he could possibly know due to his Obliviated memory, because he held her gaze, a slight, thoughtful frown appearing on his face as he studied her. She wished desperately that he _could_ read the truth in her eyes. She wished desperately that he could remember and that she could thank him properly and, more than anything else, that she could kiss him…

As if he'd read her mind, he glanced down at her lips and her heart gave a little flutter. But the moment that had been building between them ended abruptly when a sudden commotion broke out upon the conclusion of Harry and the Weasleys' game of Exploding Snap. Startled by the outburst of cheers and groans, Hermione jumped and nearly dropped her book to the floor. She then had to clutch it tightly when George, reveling in his victory, unexpectedly grabbed her hand, pulled her up to her feet, and twirled her around before releasing her again and doing the same with Fleur.

Hermione, who had already felt a bit dizzy before George had spun her around, blinked and slowly returned her gaze to Remus. "I… I think I'll go put this away," she said to him rather breathlessly as George continued to celebrate his win in exuberant fashion and the others playfully protested their loss. "I don't think it'll be safe out here." Remus, a faint frown still on his face as he looked up at her, agreed.

Grateful for the excuse to step away for a while, Hermione headed to the hall and up the stairs to Ginny's bedroom to carefully tuck the book away in her bag. She needed a moment to herself after what had just happened, what she'd just learned.

When she'd succeeded in reining in her emotions a bit, she returned to the living room. Remus was deep in conversation with Mr. Weasley, so she joined Harry by the Christmas tree, alone with him for the first time this evening.

"I've hardly had a chance to talk with you. Ginny's been monopolizing your time," she said teasingly. Harry grinned. "But I don't blame her. So how have you been?"

"Missing you. It's strange going out on missions and not having you around to bail us out of sticky situations. But tell me, how have you been doing? Ginny mentioned in a letter a while ago that you were out of sorts but she didn't know why, but when I wrote you, you said you were perfectly fine. What's going on really, Hermione?"

Harry regarded her with such brotherly concern, and it wasn't until right that moment that Hermione realized just how much she missed having him around. She wanted to talk to him and tell him everything, but she held back. This wasn't the time or the place.

"I was going through a bit of a rough time, but I promise you things are better now." She smiled thinking of the gifts Remus had given her and how things truly were better now. Before Harry could question her further, though, Ginny joined them.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked her. The youngest Weasley had been mysteriously out of sight since losing the game of Exploding Snap.

"Around. Come with me, will you?

Without waiting for an answer, Ginny grabbed her arm, said "excuse us, Harry," and dragged her to the hallway. She directed the bemused Hermione into standing in a very specific location and said, "Now take a step back."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it."

"Fine. But you have to tell me what you're up to." Hermione took a step back so that she was standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Perfect. Stay right there."

Ginny turned to leave, and Hermione called out, "No, wait! You have to tell me—"

"I'm going to get Remus over here so you can talk. Alone."

Hermione wasn't sure she liked the smile on her friend's face. "Ginny—"

"Just keep standing exactly where you are, all right? Or you can sit down on that step. That might look more natural."

None of this felt natural to Hermione. "I don't understand why—"

"Please, Hermione, just trust me, okay? Stay there."

Ginny disappeared back into the sitting room and Hermione stood there, shifting from one foot to the other, wondering what the youngest Weasley was really up to. Before she could figure it out, George strolled into the hallway. He gave her a sort of amused, inquiring look when he spotted her.

"Just what are you doing standing there so awkwardly?" he asked as he stepped toward her, joining her at the foot of the stairs.

"Um… I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," she replied.

George smiled. "Fancied getting away from the party, did you? Couldn't stand listening to any more of Celestina Warbeck's warbling?"

"No. Well, yes. She sings beautifully, but…" Hermione remembered Ginny's warning earlier about George cornering her and decided it would be best to return to the party. "I should really get back, actually. There's eggnog and — and — Hey!" She'd attempted to start to slowly and casually head out of the hall and toward the living room but found that she couldn't move. She tried again, but her feet wouldn't budge. "Why can't I move my legs?"

George looked down at his own legs and frowned. "I can't either." He glanced all around them, then up at the ceiling directly above their heads. "Ah. That explains it."

Hermione looked up too. "Is that—?"

"Mistletoe. And not the ordinary kind."

She turned her gaze back to George warily. "Is it one of your joke products?"

"Yeah, it's part of the new line of Christmas-themed gags we put out this year… But how did it get here?"

"You didn't hang it up?"

"Definitely not. Neither would Fred. This one's not ready for use. It's one of the prototypes we used to practice on and it still has some of the kinks we eventually worked out for the final version of the product. I wonder who put it up there."

"It must have been Ginny." Hermione finally knew what her friend had been planning and she couldn't believe it. She'd make sure to give her a piece of her mind later.

"Ginny? Why would she—?"

"Never mind that. Is immobilizing a person one of the kinks?"

"It's supposed to do that, actually. And we're not immobilized." To demonstrate this, George took a step closer to her. "See? We can move towards each other, just not away. Fred and I enchanted the mistletoe so that when a pair gets caught beneath it, they're trapped there until they kiss. Once they do, they're free to move wherever they like, and the mistletoe disappears again and reappears at some other random location within a room — best way to catch people unawares."

Hermione digested this information with unease. "So… you and I will be trapped here until we — until we kiss?"

"That's right," he answered, eyes gleaming.

"And it has to be on the lips?" she asked, hoping he'd say no, hoping there was a way around this.

"Right again. You could get away with a kiss on the cheek with one of the sprigs of mistletoe we sell at the shop, but this mistletoe demands a proper kiss. Now, aren't you glad you're stuck here with the better-looking twin?" He winked at her. "I promise you, I'm an excellent kisser."

Before Hermione could overthink this and fully panic, George took ahold of her, dipped her gracefully as she'd only ever seen done in old Hollywood movies, and kissed her full on the mouth. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks as he set her upright again, and a grin slowly crossed his face.

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, um, we can move away from each other now?"

"Only if you want to."

She did. She tried to move her legs yet again, but still she was unable.

"Ah, yes, that's one of the kinks," George told her. "This mistletoe's a bit temperamental. Sometimes it takes more than one kiss before it decides to release a couple from its clutches."

He pressed his lips to hers once more, and though Hermione wasn't exactly comfortable doing this, she had to admit George wasn't lying when he'd said he was an excellent kisser.

Even so, when the kiss had gone on for longer than necessary, she pushed him away. "That's enough, don't you think?" She attempted to step away from him, and this time she was successful.

"Hermione, wait — can we talk?"

"Hermione?" Ginny called, suddenly reappearing in the hallway with Harry by her side. Upon seeing Hermione and George together, she clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh no…"

"Could you guys give us a moment?" George said to his younger sister.

"No, we can't. Sorry, George." Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm like she'd done earlier and marched her up the stairs, Harry following behind them. Up in her bedroom, door slammed shut, she said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I thought—"

"You were going to trap Remus and me under the mistletoe? _That_ was your plan? That would have been bad, Ginny, forcing him to kiss me like that!"

"It wouldn't have been forcing him, it would have been giving him an opportunity to acknowledge his feelings for you! I thought this way you two would _have_ to talk about things. But, well, my plan sort of backfired."

"Yeah, you trapped me and George under the mistletoe instead!"

"Not only that. Lupin saw you kissing."

" _What?_ "

"I told him I'd just seen something under the stairs that looked like one of the creatures we learned about in third year — said it was maybe an Ashwinder or a Bundimun — and I asked him if he could check it out, you know, as an excuse to get him into the hallway with you. But he must have seen you kissing George because he came right back out in a hurry, mumbled something about needing to get some air, and went outside. He looked pretty upset. Which is good, isn't it? If it upset him to see you kissing George, then that's a good sign, right?"

Hermione shook her head, still slightly irritated with Ginny and not knowing what to make of Remus's reaction.

" _What in Merlin's bloody name is going on?_ " Harry demanded suddenly, making both girls jump. They had completely forgotten he was in the room with them. Utterly bewildered, he looked from Hermione to Ginny and back again. "Why is Remus so upset? And why would you want to trap him and Hermione beneath the mistletoe? What _things_ do you need to talk about?"

The girls exchanged a look.

"Maybe you should tell him," Ginny said quietly after a few moments. "I think he'd also like to know about…you know…Lily and James."

"What do my parents have to do with anything?" Harry inquired, looking even more confused. "I thought this was about Remus."

Hermione bit her lip as she considered Harry. She had always felt guilty about not sharing with her best friend all that she had experienced with his parents in the past. She'd always wanted to but had held back because doing so would have meant also telling him about Remus, and she hadn't been ready for that yet. But maybe this was the time and place to tell him after all.

"Harry," she said finally, "I think you should sit down."

Harry plopped down on Ginny's bed, watching Hermione curiously as she sat down next to him. After an encouraging look from Ginny and a deep breath, Hermione began. She told him an abridged version of her time traveling tale, starting with the rose and being sent to the past where his parents, Sirius, and Remus had befriended her, and ending with the way the situation was between her and Remus now. Harry listened in silence the entire time, astonishment registering on his face more than anything else, and he remained quiet after she finished her story, his brow slightly furrowed in thought.

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking… Wow, Hermione." He ran a hand through his hair then rubbed the back of his neck, audibly letting out his breath. "You and Remus… I suppose… I dunno. That's — Well, that's great."

"Great?" That was definitely not what she'd expected him to say.

"Yeah. It's sort of… fantastic."

"You — you really think so?"

"I'll be honest, I would have never imagined you and Remus… And if someone would've told me before that you two… I would've thought it strange. But now… I think about it now and it doesn't seem so strange at all. Somehow it seems…"

"Right," Ginny supplied, looking at her pensively. "I think that whenever I see you two together. I've been watching you guys a lot ever since you told me about all this, seeing how you get on. Everyone thinks you make a great pair running the Defense Club and you work really well together, but it's more than that. Haven't you noticed how everyone always asks you to do demonstrations in class and practice duels in Defense Club? I think it's because they like to see you two together. You have some special sort of chemistry even when you're dueling that's fun for us to watch."

"Remus was telling me about that earlier, about Defense Club and you being his assistant," Harry added thoughtfully. "He seemed really happy, Hermione. I thought it was just because he was teaching again, but now I think it might be because of you."

Hermione had also noticed Remus to be much more lighthearted of late, but she would never presume it was because of her. Still, Harry's words, the support of her friends, made her feel far better than she had several weeks ago when she'd been keeping all this to herself.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly after a while, "could you — could you tell me more about my parents?"

"Oh, Harry!" she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before. I really wanted to but — oh, they were so wonderful and it isn't fair that I got to spend time with them when you couldn't. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Hermione. I understand. Could you just tell me more about what they were like?"

"Your mum," she said, releasing him, "she was as lovely as everyone has always described her…"

Hermione shared with her friend everything she could about his parents' personalities — their humor, courage, kindness, and loyalty — and their blossoming romance — how they'd first gotten together and the love she'd witnessed between them — while Ginny held his hand and rested her head against his shoulder.

* * *

So the person responsible for Hermione's former boy troubles and present happiness was George Weasley, not Viktor Krum as he'd previously believed. That had been made abundantly clear to Remus a few minutes ago when he'd glimpsed them together in the secluded hallway. He was pacing around the yard now, kicking at the snow every so often and attempting to rid his mind of the image of Hermione kissing George at the foot of the stairs.

He'd wanted to tear George's throat out when he saw them. Something dangerous had stirred from deep within and he'd felt a powerful surge of anger and possessiveness, a startling flash of the wolfish aggression he rarely experienced at any time other than the night of the full moon. But more troubling still was the fact that the wolf wasn't the only part of him to have had a strong negative reaction to seeing Hermione kiss George. Every part of him had deeply disliked it, and he disliked even more that he'd so deeply disliked it because that could only mean that he… No, he couldn't possibly…

"What are you doing out there, Remus? It's freezing!" Molly's voice called out from the kitchen door. "Come inside for some hot cocoa."

Remus followed her back to the living room, but the cheerfulness that had filled him when he'd first arrived to the Burrow had disappeared. Now he was trying hard to keep his troubled state of mind controlled. That was increasingly difficult to do, however, as time passed and neither Hermione nor George returned to the party. He had to constantly remind himself that it was none of his business where they were or what they were doing. It shouldn't concern him. It _didn't_ concern him. Still, he felt a slight sense of relief when George finally reemerged in the living room alone. Hermione came much later accompanied by Harry and Ginny.

Not long after that, everyone turned in for the night. Remus stayed in the bedroom the Weasleys offered him, but sleep did not come easily. His agitated state and rampant thoughts, scored by Hagrid's rumbling snores from somewhere below him in the Burrow, disturbed his rest…

The pale light of dawn peeked through the window as Remus sat drinking hot cocoa in the kitchen Christmas morning, trying to ease his troubled mind.

"You're up early." Remus looked up from his mug to see Hermione had joined him in the kitchen. His feelings of distress only intensified when the sight of her strongly roused his inner wolf's desire — was it already that time of the month for him? "Couldn't wait to unwrap the rest of your presents?" she teased.

He forced a smile as he suppressed his wolfish impulses and tried not to imagine her wrapped up in a bow. "Would you like some cocoa?"

Though she looked tempted, she responded in the negative. "I need to get going."

"You're leaving?"

"I'm spending Christmas with my parents."

"Oh, yes, I remember," he said in disappointment.

"Actually, I'm glad I got a chance to see you before I left, Remus. I wanted to tell you… what you saw last night between George and me… it's not what you think. I—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," he interrupted, not exactly eager to hear more about her romantic situation with the Weasley twin. "It's none of my business."

She seemed to want to say something more, but she dropped the subject instead. "I suppose I should get going, then."

He walked her to the door. "Enjoy the rest of your holidays, Hermione."

"You too, Remus."

What happened next absolutely stunned him: one moment they were standing on the threshold and she was wishing him a merry Christmas; the next moment, her lips were on his.

She pulled away from him quickly, her eyes wide and a blush painting her cheeks. Then she turned on her heel, her dark hair flying behind her as she took off across the snowy yard. It took a second to regain his senses, but when he did, he chased after her. He reached her by the gate and caught her wrist to keep her from fleeing.

She stared up at him anxiously, her eyes searching his, and he gazed back at her with a sudden, fierce hunger growing in his heart. And then Hermione was in his arms. He was kissing her without the slightest reservation, his fingers twining in her hair, and she was kissing him back with a passion that electrified him—

Heart pounding wildly against his chest, Remus awoke Christmas morning to the sound of Hagrid's rumbling snores.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hehe it was just a dream :P

Thanks to each of you awesome reviewers! And thank you so much to whoever nominated this story for the Marauder Medals 2016 Best Work In Progress! Wow, that was a wonderful surprise! If you'd like to vote, you can go to shriekingshacksociety*.we*ebly.c*om (just remove the asterisks). Voting ends November 30th.


	29. Chapter 29

Remus couldn't concentrate. Sitting at his desk in his office at Hogwarts, he gave up going through his post and rested his head in his hands, unable to believe the situation he found himself in.

He did not look forward to meeting with Hermione tonight to prepare for the next session of Defense Club. It would be even worse than facing her in class yesterday. Because he would be alone with her this evening and he would have no choice but to deal with this problem, with these feelings he had for her, head on. Because he could no longer deny to himself that he did indeed have feelings for her.

Over the last few days of Christmas break he had done his best to delude himself into believing that perhaps he had just overreacted to his reaction to seeing Hermione kiss George, and perhaps he'd just read too much into the dream he'd had that same night of Hermione kissing him instead. He'd nearly succeeded in convincing himself that when he saw Hermione again he would probably find what he feared wasn't really true. But he knew when he'd nearly run into her in the Great Hall Monday morning at breakfast that it undoubtedly was. He'd taken one look at her and had practically run off to the staff table to avoid her.

Remus rubbed his temples, trying to ease some of his tension. How could he have not realized he had these feelings for her sooner? Maybe if he would have recognized this little problem earlier, he could have simply nipped those feelings in the bud. He'd gone all his life doing just that, pulling away from anyone he feared he could fall for, never letting himself get too close. How could he have let this happen with Hermione?

He couldn't figure out exactly when these feelings had first developed. He'd always admired Hermione for her intelligence and courage and compassionate nature, but he'd never looked at her in that way before. But the problem was he'd been spending too much time with her these last few months and, without meaning to, something had shifted in the way he saw her. He supposed it wasn't so surprising really that he could be attracted to her considering she was a brilliant and beautiful girl.

Remus continued massaging his temples as a memory of a conversation he'd once had with Dumbledore suddenly sprang to mind…

 _"I'll be bringing Harry here Saturday morning," the headmaster told Remus as they talked in the kitchen at the Burrow, the new headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. "Have you written him? How is he coping?"_

 _"He seems to be handling things as well as could be expected under the circumstances," Remus replied a bit heavily. "He has the Weasleys, of course, but Sirius was the closest thing to his own real family he had left, an irreplaceable link to his parents. Now that's he's gone…"_

 _"He still has you, Remus. I daresay he is much fonder of you than you realize. It would do you both good to lean on each other during these difficult times. The loss of Sirius must be equally, if not more, devastating for you."_

 _Remus looked away from Dumbledore's penetrating gaze. "I've learned to deal with loss over the years, but Harry… It isn't fair how much he's had to suffer and at such a young age. He's had to grow up too quickly."_

 _"It is unjust what he has had to live through, yes. However, he will become a stronger and better man for it — much to Voldemort's detriment."_

 _Movement outside the window caught their attention. Three figures had passed through the gate and were walking across the yard toward the house. Arthur Weasley and his son, Ron, were carrying a trunk between them, and beside the pair, carrying a small bag and sweeping her plait of brown hair back over her shoulder, was Hermione Granger. It appeared she'd be spending the rest of the summer holidays here at the Burrow._

 _"Speaking of growing up," said Dumbledore casually, "Miss Granger certainly has. She's become quite a beautiful young woman, hasn't she?"_

 _Remus turned his gaze away from the window, frowning slightly. Though it was admittedly true what Dumbledore said about Hermione, he thought it a rather odd remark for the headmaster to make. He wasn't sure how to respond. Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't seem to expect an answer. He simply smiled at Remus before moving to the door to open up for Arthur, Ron, and Hermione…_

Hermione was an even more beautiful young woman now. But the operative and condemning word in that admission was 'young.' She had been two months shy of her seventeenth birthday and coming of age in that memory with Dumbledore, and she wasn't much older now. She was still a _teenager_ for goodness' sake.

Remus began to pace around his office. How could he have possibly let this happen? How could he have allowed himself to develop feelings for Hermione of all people? She was best friends and classmates with Harry, the son of his own best friend and classmate, which was unforgivably telling of the significant age difference between them. Apart from that, she was his _student_. Tomorrow she would be sitting in the front row of his class again, listening attentively to his lecture, and he would be calling on her whenever she raised her hand, pretending his feelings for her didn't exist.

Because that was what he had to do. He had to find a way to forget these feelings existed, or, better yet, find a way to get rid of them because they were completely inappropriate and utterly reprehensible, and if Hermione knew about them she'd likely be disgusted.

Remus paused by his desk and snatched up one of his unopened letters, trying not to remember the feelings that had stirred within him when her warm brown eyes had gazed at him so intently after they'd exchanged gifts Christmas Eve. He seized his letter opener, trying not to think how those eyes would never look at him in the same way they looked at George—

"Damn," he muttered, a sharp pain in his hand. He'd used too much force in his frustration and had somehow cut himself with the letter opener. Blood dripped from his palm, and the pale envelope from Hugh Hawthorne — the old friend he'd recently reacquainted with after they'd run into each other at the Weasley twins' joke shop — stained with crimson.

* * *

After dinner, Hermione and Ginny joined the crowd of students in the entrance hall buzzing with excitement over the announcement that had just been posted on the bulletin board. Hogwarts would be holding a school dance Valentine's Day weekend. Besides the Yule Ball a few years ago, there hadn't been any dances at Hogwarts in ages so it was no surprise everyone was ecstatic.

"I wonder if I'll be able to invite Harry as my date," Ginny mused and continued to read the notice, Hermione at her shoulder. "Yes! It says here we're allowed to invite guests who don't attend Hogwarts so long as they are under twenty-one years of age and are approved by our Head of House. Great! Lupin will definitely approve of Harry!"

Hermione had no doubt about that, but she couldn't share in Ginny's excitement over the dance. Unlike her, Hermione didn't have a ready date and she didn't look forward to trying to find one. Perhaps she'd go alone.

On her way to Remus's office for their meeting, she couldn't help but remember the last dance she'd been to, the Halloween one in the past. The teenage Remus had asked her to dance, and she'd nervously said yes. Then he'd taken her by the hand for the first time, but almost as soon as they'd gone onto the dance floor, Dumbledore had abruptly put an end to the night's festivities.

She wished they could have another chance to dance together, to make up for that night. She knew, though, it would be impossible during the upcoming Valentine's Day celebration. Remus was her teacher now and she was his student and it would not be proper nor permitted.

Hermione knocked on his door, her usually delighted mood going into these meetings with him a bit dampened this evening by her disappointment over the dance. When she stepped into his office, however, and saw Remus standing by his desk, cradling his bleeding hand, all thoughts of the dance flew from her mind.

She rushed toward him in concern. "Remus — what happened?"

"It's nothing. Just a cut," he said, pulling out his wand to mend the gash on his palm.

"Here, let me," she offered.

Before he could protest she carefully took his injured hand into her own. With her wand she traced the slash on his palm, muttering a melodious incantation as she did so. The bleeding stopped at once. She repeated the process, more slowly this time, and her magic knitted the wound right before their eyes. She used Remus's handkerchief to gently wipe away the residual blood.

"There," she said softly, lightly tracing with her fingers now where the cut had been. The wound had healed so completely not even a scar remained.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"No problem," she said, still stroking his palm. His hands felt warm and strong and a little more callused than the last time she'd held them — back when he was a teenager, that night in the boys' dormitory. She'd liked the way that slight roughness had felt against her skin that night as he'd caressed her… A pleasant shiver ran through her at the memory.

"I thought it might not work so well, the spell," she said to distract herself. She looked up at Remus. He was staring down at their touching hands, a faint crease between his brows. Then he raised his gaze to hers. Only then as she looked into his green-gray eyes did Hermione realize how close they standing. She found it hard to hold his gaze at this distance. The room suddenly felt too warm though there was no fire in the fireplace, only the heat of their proximity and the memories of that night...

"I thought it might be a cursed wound you'd gotten during the full moon a few nights ago, one that wouldn't heal properly," she continued, hurrying to distract herself again. "I thought it might leave a scar like the ones on your chest."

She felt Remus tense and realized too little too late that she should not have said what she'd just said.

"How do you know about those scars?" he asked warily, withdrawing his hand from hers.

"Oh — I — I just assumed." Her voice was a higher pitch than normal. She tried to keep it under control as she thought fast and said, "You told us in third year that you would attack yourself if you were locked up away from people during the full moon. I just assumed you — you'd claw at your chest and leave scars. I think I've read somewhere that werewolves do that."

Hermione was sure he could see the guilt in her eyes — how could she have slipped up like that? — but fortune seemed to be on her side this evening because somebody knocked on the door before any more could be said. She turned away, breathing a grateful sigh of relief, as Remus stepped to the door and opened up.

An unfamiliar woman's voice greeted him.

"Vivienne," Remus said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Making a personal delivery. I thought you might like a taste of my goodies."

Aghast at the obvious suggestiveness in the woman's tone, Hermione whipped back around. A very attractive blonde was smiling coyly at Remus from the doorway.

"Er, Vivienne," Remus said, stepping back from the door, "I'm speaking with a student."

Vivienne caught sight of Hermione. "Oops — sorry!" she said, giving a little laugh, not of embarrassment so much as amusement.

"Vivienne works at Honeydukes," Remus quickly explained to Hermione without meeting her eyes. "She was referring to chocolates of course."

"Of course," Hermione said faintly, looking between him and Vivienne with a horrible feeling in her stomach.

"Yes, chocolates," said Vivienne, holding up a nicely packaged basket so Hermione could see. "Like I was saying, my auntie sent me over to personally deliver her annual holiday gift basket of Honeydukes goodies to the headmistress — we're a little late this year. I thought I'd bring a basket for Professor Lupin here as well." She placed the chocolates on his desk and gave Remus a wink. "I'll wait outside until you're finished, shall I?"

Hermione stared numbly after Vivienne as she departed from the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

"I'm sorry about that, Hermione," Remus said after a moment, and she slowly returned her gaze to him.

"Is she your girlfriend?" she asked, though she feared the answer.

"Er, no, she's just… a friend."

"Right."

"If you don't mind, Hermione… I think it'll be better if we meet tomorrow instead."

She stared at him, noting his discomfort. Or was it anticipation? He wanted her to leave. He wanted her to go so he could be alone with that woman…

"Sure," she agreed hollowly. "That's fine. Perfect."

What else could she say? With one last look at Remus, she reluctantly left his office.

Out in the corridor, Vivienne smiled at her and said, "Cute uniform. Much more stylish than the one I had to wear as a kid."

Hermione felt a strong rush of dislike toward the woman at these words — she was not a _kid_ as the witch implied — and the feeling only intensified as she watched Vivienne disappear into Remus's office, the door swinging shut behind her.

Hermione blindly made her way through the corridors. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to crawl into bed and cry, or march back to Remus's office and claw that woman's flirty eyes out. Maybe both.

"Scowling sure suits you, Hermione."

Shaken from her bitter thoughts and imaginings, Hermione looked around to see that Vivienne wasn't the only visitor at Hogwarts.

"If you're going for the fierce runway model look," George said, "you've almost got it down pat. You just need a little more pout."

"What are you doing here?"

"Fred and I came to visit McGonagall. You see, we felt a bit bad about what we did a while back, sneaking into the castle and putting up those posters for our joke shop when most of our products are banned here. So, in the spirit of the new year, we decided to apologize and make it up to McGonagall by sneaking into the castle and giving her some of those banned products for free."

Hermione could only imagine how the stern ex-Transfiguration teacher would respond. "And how did she react to that?"

"Like you just did, actually. She involuntarily cracked a smile. Because McGonagall secretly loves us. As much as we infuriate her, we brighten up her day and she can't get enough of us. You know the feeling. That's why I say yes."

"Yes to what?"

"Your invitation to the Valentine's Day dance. I agree to be your escort. But we'd go only as friends, of course. I know you're in love with Remus."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "You — _what?"_

"I know, Hermione," he said, lowering his voice so they wouldn't be overheard by the students passing by. "About you and Remus. I sort of heard you telling Harry on Christmas Eve."

Hermione gaped at him for a moment, then grabbed George by the arm and pushed him into the nearest empty classroom. After closing the door behind them, she rounded on the Weasley twin.

" _You eavesdropped on us?_ "

"Well… yeah," he admitted, looking a bit ashamed under her glare.

"And exactly how much did you hear?"

"Just about everything. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't tear my Extendable Ear away. It was riveting stuff: the rose and time travel, you and Remus…"

Hermione felt her stomach sink again. There was no her and Remus in this time, not really. And now that Vivienne was in the picture… She didn't want to think about that, about _them_.

"Out of curiosity, how would a relationship between you and Remus work now?" George asked. "I mean, he's a teacher and dating a student has to be against the code of conduct for a Hogwarts professor."

"I suppose we would have to wait until after I graduate before anything could happen between us." Her frustration was thinly veiled when she added, "That is, if Remus ever _wanted_ anything to happen between us."

George studied her face, his own expression hard to read. "I can help you with him, you know."

"And why would you want to do that?" she asked suspiciously. "I mean… Well…"

"Did Ginny tell you that I fancied you?"

"Um, yes, she may have mentioned something like that."

"It's true," George admitted, looking her steadily in the eye.

"Oh. So — so then why—?"

He smiled at her self-consciousness. "It's just a crush, Hermione. Don't think I've been pining for you or anything like that. I thought maybe we could give it a go if you were interested, but since you're not, I want to help. I like Remus. He's a Marauder and a bit of an inspiration to Fred and me."

"And how would you help me with him?"

"Well, from what I so rudely overheard Ginny say, he really didn't like seeing us kiss. So I think if he sees us together at the dance, maybe we can get a reaction out of him. That is, of course, if he hasn't already come around by then."

"So you think I should try to make him jealous?"

"You'd be surprised how effective that strategy can be sometimes, how some guys will react when they see the girl they have their eye on is being pursued by somebody else."

Hermione was reminded of the conversation she'd overheard Remus and Sirius having about her in the past. Sirius had confessed to Remus that he flirted with her only to get a reaction out of him, hoping to pressure Remus into making a move on her before he did. His plan had sort of worked. Remus had asked her out soon after that.

"For example," George continued, "you should have seen Fred when we ran into the woman who works at Honeydukes—"

"Vivienne?"

"Yeah. Fred's got a thing for Vivienne, her being a hot older woman and all, but she's not falling for his charms for some reason. When we ran into her earlier outside McGonagall's office, she said she was here to see 'a real man' and Fred — well, he didn't like that one bit. I wonder who she came to see. He has to be a teacher, right?"

"Remus," she told him quietly. "She came here to see Remus."

"Oh," George said, raising his eyebrows. "So they're involved?"

"He said they were only friends, but… I don't know. She seemed very interested in him."

"Wow, Remus truly is my inspiration. You and Vivienne…" He shook his head incredulously. "Anyway, what do you say, Hermione? Shall I buff my dancing shoes for Valentine's Day?"

"That's not for a while yet," she said slowly, considering his offer. "But I suppose… Yes, I suppose you should." George's eyes lit up and she quickly added, "We'll go only as friends, though, like you said."

George grinned. "Whatever you say."

* * *

Remus was grateful for Vivienne's interruption, grateful for the distraction she provided, though she didn't stay for long. They talked for a short while in his office before he walked her out of the castle and to the gate, and he had nearly gone the whole time without his mind wandering to a certain brunette. But when Vivienne's lips met his as they said goodbye, all he could think of was Hermione and the way she'd kissed him in his dream…

"We should get together again soon," Vivienne said as she pulled away from their kiss. She gave him a sensual smile and Remus attempted to shake Hermione from his thoughts. He needed to focus on the gorgeous woman standing before him.

He'd be too busy this weekend, but he said, "How about next Saturday?"

"Hmm… I think that'll be a bit too soon. How about I let you know when?"

And with that she turned and started along the path to Hogsmeade, leaving him to wonder what exactly it was too soon for. What did she have in mind? Or was she simply turning the tables on him and making him do the waiting and chasing? He didn't know and found that he didn't care much either in this moment.

As he walked back to the castle, he tried to convince himself it was good for him to go out with Vivienne, to get Hermione out of his mind and also because he knew most men would consider themselves lucky to be in his position. Vivienne was the kind of woman most men fancied, and she had set her sights on him. For some reason he didn't quite understand she was interested in him, and that, he realized with sinking spirits, was something Hermione would never be.

* * *

 **A/N:** Loved reading your reactions to the last chapter. I never knew being "evil" and "cruel" and "horrid" could be so much fun :P


	30. Chapter 30

"Legilimency," Hermione listened to Remus lecture, "is an obscure branch of magic, one that can be both helpful and extremely dangerous. It's an ability that can be used to discover lies and hidden truths about a person or event, but in a manner that inherently violates a person's right to privacy. For that reason amongst a few others we don't normally teach this particular magic at Hogwarts, only its theory and the theory of its defense, which we will be going over today. But first, what exactly is Legilimency?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"It's the ability to magically penetrate the mind of another person. It's sometimes referred to as mind reading, but it's much more nuanced and complex than that. An accomplished Legilimens can delve into a person's mind, navigate through its many layers, extract thoughts, feelings, and memories, and interpret their findings accurately."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Remus said and Hermione smiled to herself, pleased. "Very few witches and wizards are accomplished Legilimens — it requires an incredibly high level of skill — but those who are may use their ability for good or for bad like anything else. Dark wizards have utilized this power to mentally defeat their victims by learning their fears and weakness and using that information to influence them. Fortunately, there is a defense against Legilimency and that is—?"

"Occlumency, sir," Ginny answered before Hermione could, and then she stuck her tongue out at her teasingly.

With a slight chuckle at the face Ginny pulled, Remus said, "That's right. Occlumency is the defense of the mind against magical intrusion and influence. Now, how exactly do we seal our minds from external penetration? Any ideas? Neville?"

"Legilimency requires eye contact, so avoiding it would be the easiest defense, wouldn't it, Professor?" Neville said.

"Yes, eye contact is nearly always essential to Legilimency, so avoiding it would be a simple way to prevent someone from trespassing into our minds. However, avoiding eye contact isn't always possible, convenient, or entirely effective. How else might we protect our minds?"

"By clearing it of all thoughts and emotions," Hermione answered. "Give the Legilimens nothing to see, nothing to use against you."

"Precisely. Clearing your mind might seem like an easy task, but in the moment when you are under attack it's exactly those thoughts you wish not to be discovered that will likely flood your consciousness. To become proficient in Occlumency, discipline of the mind is critical. One must have great strength of will and a careful, absolute control over one's emotions and memories. So, everybody, let's try this right now. Let go of everything — all your wandering thoughts, feelings, everything — and clear your mind."

The room went very quiet as Hermione and her classmates attempted to empty their minds of all thought. A chair suddenly squeaked and somebody giggled. Silence once more.

"Everybody's mind clear?" Remus asked after a few moments.

There was a mixed response in which several students laughed at their failed attempts. Remus smiled.

"All right, for homework—"

"Wait, sir," said Dean. "Aren't we going to practice Occlumency on each other?"

"How would we do that? We don't know Legilimency," Ginny pointed out.

"You won't be tested on Occlumency in the practical portion of your N.E.W.T.s," Remus informed them. "You only need to know the theory for the written exam."

"Can we at least have a demonstration, Professor?" Dean suggested. "Can you and Hermione do it like in Defense Club?"

The entire class spoke up in eager support of the idea — everybody except for Hermione. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. If Remus were to look into her mind, he'd see everything. He'd know what had happened between them in the past and how strongly she felt for him now...

"Okay, all right," Remus said, quieting down the class. His gaze settled on Hermione whose heart began to pound away in utter panic. "Hermione, if you will."

"Um, Professor, I—"

"Don't worry, I won't really look into your mind," he assured her. "We'll just talk the class through what it would be like."

"Okay."

Hermione stood before Remus in the front of the classroom, her heart still beating anxiously.

"A Legilimens would look directly into their victim's eyes." Remus did to Hermione as he described to the class, his sage-green eyes locking with hers. "It would seem like their eyes were boring into you." Indeed, they did. "So to defend yourself you would look away as Hermione just did instinctively. But if you couldn't look away for whatever reason, what would you do, Hermione?"

She tentatively met his gaze again. "Clear my mind."

"And how would you do that?"

"I'd do my best to stay calm and to stop thinking and feeling. I'd try to shut down my emotions entirely."

"Go on, then. Clear your mind for us."

Hermione found it extremely hard not to think or feel anything when Remus was standing right before her and staring at her like that. What he'd said earlier about the things you wish most to stay hidden being precisely the things that came to the forefront of your mind in moments like this was absolutely true. All she could think of was all the romantic moments she'd shared with the younger Remus, all the times they'd kissed, their last night together in his dormitory, her longing for the Remus before her now, how much she wished he would just lay her on the teacher's desk beside them and snog her like he'd done in the past—

Merlin's beard, she needed to get a grip on herself. She needed to stop fantasizing about Remus while she was in class, especially when he was looking at her expectantly like he was right now.

Uncomfortably aware of him and all her classmates watching her, she did her best to suppress her memories and emotions. She thought she must have succeeded well enough in doing so when Remus spoke next.

"Note her blank, closed off expression," he said to the rest of the class, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now, Hermione, if a Legilimens attempted to probe further into your mind, if they wanted to force their way through memories you'd prefer them not to see, or influence your emotions or actions in undesirable ways, what would you do?"

"I would push them out by creating a mental barrier," she said, "a shield to keep them from delving any deeper into my mind."

Remus continued to look intently into her eyes, and she wondered if he really was trying to peek into her mind. She didn't know what it would feel like if he were to do so, if she would even feel it at all, so she had no idea if he was doing it or not. She kept her guard up just in case.

"Notice how her expression remained calm and closed as she responded to my question," Remus said to the class. "She did not lower her mental shields. She would not be an easy victim. Her mind has sharp defenses. Very good, Hermione."

He finally broke their eye contact and a relieved Hermione took her seat again, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

On their way to the Great Hall for lunch after class ended, Ginny gave her a little smirk. "You all right, Hermione? That looked intense."

"It was. Could you imagine if he had really done Legilimency on me?

Ginny's expression turned thoughtful. "Maybe you should have let him do it."

"What? No way. He'd find out everything—"

"Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe it would initiate something between you two."

"No, I couldn't do that," Hermione said, thinking of the boggart-Remus. "Especially not in class in front of everyone like that. I don't know how he'd react."

"Well, you need to do _something_ soon before that Vivienne woman gets her claws on him."

"What am I supposed to do? _Throw_ myself at him?" she shot back in frustration.

"Maybe you should! Before _she_ does — if she hasn't already." Hermione winced and Ginny immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I just want you two to work out, and I'm afraid if you don't do something soon…"

That same fear had been dwelling within Hermione for the past two weeks, ever since she'd met Vivienne, but she didn't know what she could do to make Remus take notice of her, to make him acknowledge the feelings Dumbledore had believed he had for her. She was afraid she'd somehow missed her opportunity. Maybe there was nothing _to_ acknowledge anymore.

* * *

When Remus entered the Room of Requirement with Hermione Friday evening, they found that the collection of books on the shelves lining the walls, which usually consisted only of texts on defensive magical theory, had expanded to include books on many other subjects for their reading pleasure. The extraordinary room had provided them their own personal library since they so often came in early for Defense Club like they did today or lingered afterward to read.

He and Hermione browsed through the new books and settled themselves on large, crimson cushions with their selections. A companionable silence fell between them as they began to read. At least, Hermione began to read. Remus had a book, but he was too busy stealing glances at the girl beside him to pay much attention to the words on the page he was opened to. He watched as she turned a page in her own book and smiled at something on the next one.

What was she thinking?

Ever since he'd lectured on Legilimency yesterday, Remus wondered what he would find if he were to look into Hermione's mind. He wanted to know everything. What she thought of him, for example. Or if she'd felt what he'd felt when she'd held his hand in her own after mending it in his office a couple weeks ago.

Hermione glanced up and caught him watching her.

"What are you reading?" he asked to cover up for his staring.

"Wizarding fairy tales, but I'm mostly just looking at the pictures." She flipped through the pages to show him the colorful illustrations. "They're very beautiful, aren't they?" She randomly landed on a page depicting the full moon shining brightly over a forest. Upon seeing his involuntary frown, she quickly apologized and turned to another page.

"It's all right, Hermione," he said, relaxing his face. "I've always thought the full moon was beautiful. I just don't get to appreciate it the way I used to. May I see?"

Remus took her book and flipped it back to the picture of the moon. It brought to mind a tale he'd heard in his youth.

"I remember when I was very young my mother told me a story about a boy who was terribly afraid of the dark. He would curl up in bed with a flashlight every night because that was the time when all the monsters would come out of hiding to prey on little kids like himself. But when his friend found out he was frightened of the dark, she told him there was no reason to fear the night so much because the moon would always be up in the sky, ready to make light of the dark. She told him that even though there was nothing but darkness sometimes, the unfailing moon would gradually appear in the succeeding nights, providing more and more light and protection over all the children in the world. Then they thought of the clever idea to camp outside when the moon was full and bottle up the moonbeams, so they could have light saved up to protect them from the monsters when the dark nights came again."

Remus hadn't thought about that story in ages and was surprised he'd told it now. He looked up at Hermione, who was watching him closely.

"That's a lovely story," she said.

Remus agreed, though for him the inaccuracy of the tale had long since overshadowed the positive meaning that could be derived from it. He'd learned in a harsh manner soon after his mother had told him the story that the full moon didn't protect, it incited and unleashed danger; and in reality, it was the night of the full moon and not the dark nights when the real monsters came out to prey. He knew that all too well because he was one of them now.

Students began to arrive for the Defense Club meeting a short while later. Joining the group who normally showed up each week was Nicholas, a very bright Ravenclaw boy but a second year. He was too young for the club, which was intended for fifth and seventh years only.

"But Professor Lupin," Nicholas pleaded when Remus told him this, "I want to join. I promise I won't be any trouble. I just want to learn and practice with you guys. Everyone's always talking about how fun it is."

"Oh, let him stay, Remus," Hermione said. "He can do what he can and then watch and learn from the others."

"Fine," he acquiesced. "You can stay."

"Yes!" cheered the boy.

Hermione smiled. "You can be in my group, Nicholas."

Later on, while his group of seventh years were practicing nonverbal spells on each other, Remus briefly stepped away from them to see how Hermione was doing with the fifth years she was in charge of. Like always, he was impressed by how well they were getting on and thought that Hermione would make a great teacher with her extensive knowledge and patience and skill. He watched as she went over to the struggling Nicholas to help him with his Stunning Spell and noticed the Ravenclaw had curly brown hair very similar to hers. The two of them looked like they could be related.

And then a picture developed in his mind of Hermione gently admonishing her young, bushy-haired son for eating one of the Christmas cookies they'd baked for the Weasleys. She then made a useless attempt to tame his unruly hair and called out to her husband, telling him to hurry up getting dressed or they'd be late for dinner at the Burrow. Remus imagined her husband coming into the room — a husband that looked an awful lot like himself — and her beaming at the sight of him in the new sweater she'd given him. And like she'd done at the Burrow on Christmas Eve, she gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek before he pulled her into a proper kiss that made their son crinkle his nose and tell them to get a room—

Merlin's beard, where did _that_ come from? Remus hurried away from Hermione and Nicholas. He needed to get a grip on himself and rein in his imagination. A werewolf did not belong in that scene he'd just envisioned anyway. He did his best to fight off the bitterness that came along with that realization as he returned to the seventh years to watch them practice.

After the Defense Club meeting was over and only Hermione remained in the Room of Requirement with him, helping him tidy it up a bit, he asked her, "Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher?"

"Yes, I have, actually. But I think I'd rather go into the Ministry of Magic now that Kingsley's in charge and is making the changes it's needed for too long. I want to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and fight for the rights of house-elves and werewolves."

"So you're going to continue the work you began with S.P.E.W.?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare — you spoke so passionately about the cause when you first told me about it. Not many people your age think about those types of issues, much less actually do something about it."

"I really hope I _can_ do something about it. I hope I can make a difference, however small it may be."

"I have no doubt you will."

She smiled.

"I suppose we should go," he said after they'd lingered by the door for a bit too long.

"Remus, wait," Hermione said hurriedly, taking hold of his arm to keep him from leaving. "Can — can you stay a minute?"

His hair stood on end when her hand lightly ran down his arm as she let him go. A similar sensation to when she'd caressed his palm after healing his cut — didn't she realize how that kind of touch could affect a man? But she didn't seem to notice she'd had any effect on him. She looked too preoccupied. He saw a struggle in her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. I just wanted…" She trailed off, biting her lip and looking uncertain, and as she subtly shifted her weight forward, Remus realized she was standing too close to him. He should move away, step back. But his muscles didn't seem to want to respond. "Remus, I—"

They both started when they heard the door to the Room of Requirement swing open and Hermione swiftly stepped away from him as McGonagall came into the room. The headmistress looked distractedly between the pair of them.

"Good, you're still here, Miss Granger," she said in a rather odd voice. "I — I need to speak with you. Remus, you should hear this as well."

He noted her unusually pale complexion. "Is everything all right?"

"You should take a seat," she said in that odd voice, conjuring up a couple of chairs for them. He and Hermione exchanged a curious look before doing as she told them. Only after they were seated did McGonagall say, "It's about Mr. Potter."

"Harry?" Worry crossed Hermione's features. "Has — has something happened to him, Professor?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," the headmistress replied heavily, glancing between Hermione and him with red-tinged eyes. "Mr. Potter went on a mission for the Auror Department earlier today and — and something went wrong. He and a fellow Auror were ambushed by a band of wanted wizards."

Hermione gasped beside him, her hand shooting to her mouth, while Remus froze, his heart speeding up as his gaze remained fixed on McGonagall, waiting impatiently for her to go on.

"One of them was a Death Eater who had eluded capture since the war, and he hit Mr. Potter in the chest with an unknown spell that knocked him unconscious. Mr. Potter is at St. Mungo's now, but he's — he's unresponsive, in a magical comatose-like state. The Healers say he's in very critical condition—"

"But — but he'll be all right, won't he?" Hermione asked in a high, shaky voice. "He'll wake up and — and he'll be fine?"

McGonagall's lip quivered. "His condition is steadily deteriorating."

" _No,_ " Hermione whispered.

A strange ringing filled Remus's ears.

McGonagall continued, every word appearing to cause her pain. "The Healers fear there's nothing they can do."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, muffling the sound she made, something between a choked gasp and a strangled cry, and Remus felt like he was in the middle of a nightmare. This had to be a dream. It couldn't be true, this couldn't really be happening…

"Minerva—?"

Unaware of when he'd leapt out of his seat, Remus was gripping McGonagall's arms now and wildly searching her eyes, willing her to tell them something more, anything that would give them some sliver of hope for Harry. But she shook her head slightly, a tear dropping down the lines of her weary face, and his blood ran cold.


	31. Chapter 31

Harry lay on the hospital bed before Hermione, looking like he could just be sleeping if it weren't for his deathly pallor and the coldness of his skin and the fact that he'd been unresponsive since Friday night. He was miraculously not dead as the Healers had predicted he'd be by Saturday morning, but she wouldn't exactly say he was alive either. He was in a magical coma, his vitals were barely vital, and the Healers could do nothing to make him better. There was no known magic, potion, or Muggle medication that could combat the effects of the curse that the now captured Death Eater had hit him with. The Healers said the only reason Harry hadn't yet succumbed was because his will to survive was so great.

But would his will to wake up be strong enough? Could sheer will be enough to fight off the curse? How long could it keep him alive? She knew the longer he stayed in the coma, the slimmer his chances became and hoped he'd rally up whatever strength he had left and react soon.

"I've brought you three some sandwiches," Mrs. Weasley said as she came into the room.

Although she felt no desire to eat, Hermione thanked her and took the food she offered, as did Ron. Ginny, however, refused.

"You haven't eaten all day, dear."

"I'm not hungry, Mum."

"But you have to eat something."

"Fine," Ginny said, taking the sandwich.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter, then Harry, with a pained expression before quietly leaving the room again. Upon her exit, Ginny discarded the sandwich and gathered Harry's hand in hers once more.

Ron also seemed to have lost his normally ravenous appetite. He slowly took a few bites before setting the food aside as well. His face was very pale. So was Ginny's, which magnified the dark circles under her teary eyes. Hermione thought she herself must look just as bad as they did. None of them had left Harry's side for long these past few days. They, along with him, were in limbo.

Hermione felt like she was in a daze. How could this be happening? How could Harry be in this position after everything he'd already had to go through, after everything he'd survived, including saving the entire wizarding and Muggle world? It wasn't fair. Just when he'd begun to settle into a less burdened life, full of possibilities and happiness. He deserved more time. He had to wake up. He had to live. He had to.

Evening came. Hermione said aloud that she'd be gone for a little while, but she'd be back very soon. Ginny and Ron didn't ask where she was going. They simply nodded in response. But Hermione wasn't speaking to them anyway. She spoke to Harry. She was convinced he could hear her and knew what was going on around him even if he couldn't show it. She kissed his cheek and gave his cold hand another squeeze, hoping he might react, but when he didn't she parted from the heavy atmosphere of the hospital room.

Before she knew it, she was lurking in the halls at Hogwarts. She checked the Marauder's Map for a path to Slughorn's office that would allow her to avoid running into anybody and being bombarded with questions: _How's Harry? Will he ever wake up? Is it true what the Daily Prophet reported, that the Boy Who Lived is going to die?_ She dreadfully feared the answers.

"You needn't have written this essay, Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn told her as he accepted the assignment she handed over. "Under the circumstances… I would have understood."

"I finished it before Harry—" Hermione blinked back her sudden emotion and cleared her throat. "I finished it last week, Professor, so I thought I'd turn it in." Then, because she was sure he was about to inquire about Harry's condition, or hers, she asked, "Is that for Professor Lupin?"

Slughorn followed her gaze to the goblet on his desk. "Ah, yes. He never came by to pick up his potion. I was just about to deliver it to him myself."

"I could do that for you if you like. I'm heading that way."

"That would be great. Thank you, Miss Granger. And don't worry about this week's assignments, all right?"

For once Hermione wasn't worried about homework. She hadn't come to Hogwarts to turn in her assignment, or to get more books from the library to research ways to help Harry like she'd told McGonagall. In truth, she'd only come to see Remus.

She was extremely upset with him. She wasn't sure if this feeling was at all rational or fair to him, but it was real and strong within her. His absence at St. Mungo's these past few days had been awful. He'd left on Saturday and he had never returned, and she was angry at him for not being by Harry's side, for not being by _her_ side. She needed his comforting words, his strength and his steadiness, and the reassuring calm he provided in difficult situations like this. She needed him but he wasn't there, and so she marched to his office to demand his reason why.

* * *

Remus poured himself more firewhiskey. Raising the glass to his lips, he stared at the framed photographs perched atop the mantelpiece in his living quarters. The once smiling faces of the people he loved, now deceased.

There was a picture of him as a young boy with his mother. She'd passed away when he was sixteen. Another photo of her and his father. He'd died as well, a number of years ago. A picture of Remus with his three best friends. All of them dead and gone now.

He snatched the photograph of the Marauders at Hogwarts. A lot of the greatest, happiest times of his life had been when he was a student, roaming the school with his friends, joking and laughing and getting into trouble. Then the worst time in his life had followed a few short years later. Within twenty-four hours he'd lost all of his closest friends: first James and Lily were murdered, then Peter (or so he'd thought), and Sirius was carted off to Azkaban with a life sentence, believed to be the traitor responsible for these horrific deaths. And he had been left alone.

He'd gone on to live a poor, miserable existence for the majority of his adult life, and he couldn't understand why he'd outlived his friends. Why had they died while he'd survived? James and Sirius had so much more potential than him, much more opportunity for happiness and success. They had brains, talent, money, and looks, while any positive attributes he might have were rendered useless by his lycanthropy. They were the ones who deserved more time, not him. Especially James. He had already started his own family. He'd married the love of his life and they'd had a son. And now that son lay near death in a hospital bed, without hope of recovery…

He couldn't bear to see Harry in that state. He couldn't bear to see the stricken faces of Hermione and the Weasleys gathered at his bedside. Hermione had looked so pale when they'd left Hogwarts and arrived at St. Mungo's Friday night, and it had pained him to see the sorrow in her eyes when they'd seen Harry for the first time. He knew how agonizing this must be for her; Harry was like her brother. For a while she couldn't speak. She'd only held Harry's hand and hugged a silently sobbing Ginny. But outside the hospital room later she wiped away her own tears and he was surprised by the edge of anger in her voice when she said to him it wasn't fair.

He had long ago learned that life was unfair and sometimes things happened for no reason at all. Still, he agreed with Hermione. It _wasn't_ fair, and he couldn't accept what was happening to Harry. It was beyond unjust what Harry had already had to live through, and he more than deserved a long, happy, and peaceful life. If he could switch places with him, if he could give up his own life so that he could live, he would do so without hesitation. But he couldn't. Once more he'd have to stand by helplessly as another person he cared for died, and much too young. Why Harry?

A few years ago, after Sirius's death, he'd told Dumbledore that Sirius had been the closest thing to his real family Harry had left, an irreplaceable link to his parents, and Dumbledore had told him that he, Remus, now filled that role. The opposite was also true. Remus felt that Harry was an irreplaceable link to his own happy, Hogwarts days and the family he'd found with the Marauders, and now he was about to lose him too…

He drained his glass of firewhiskey and poured himself another. He was tired of losing everyone he loved. He was cursed, he had to be.

* * *

Hermione banged on the door to Remus's office. He didn't answer.

"Alohomora!" she cried and the door burst open. She entered. The Marauder's Map showed her that Remus was in his living quarters, the door to which she knew was camouflaged in the wall behind his desk. She raised her fist to knock on it, but a loud crashing sound in the room beyond made her jump back in alarm — what was that? Was Remus all right? A worried Hermione hurried inside the unlocked door to see what was going on.

She took a cursory look around the room, a sitting room, and then her eyes settled upon Remus. He stood with his back toward her, tense and breathing hard. She noted the nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey on the table beside him, the dripping wall by the fireplace, and the shards of glass on the floor, and tentatively stepped forward. He turned around before she could say his name, his eyes overly bright.

"He can't die too."

Her heart wrenched at the sound of his broken voice. She saw the photograph he had clutched in his hand and she immediately understood what he must be feeling. She remembered his reaction to Dumbledore's death, the only other time she'd ever seen him lose his composure, and she knew this situation with Harry must be more painful still because Remus had already lost so many of the people he cared about most in life…

Hermione rushed towards him.

"He won't die, he'll be okay!" she cried, her hand cupping his face. "He'll be okay, Remus. He'll wake up. He _has_ to wake up!"

Her words and tone started out reassuring, but they quickly turned into an uncertain plea. She tried to be strong for him, but how could she when she felt so hopeless herself? It didn't matter, though. Upon seeing her distress, Remus began to regain his composure. He gently took her face into his hands.

"Of course he'll wake up." His thumbs caressed her cheeks, wiping away her fallen tears. "Harry's tough. Resilient. He's survived everything life has thrown at him thus far, and he'll survive this. He will wake up. He'll be okay." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Everything will be okay, Hermione."

He pulled her to him and she hugged him tightly, her eyes closing at the soothing touch of him stroking her hair. This was exactly what she'd needed these last few days. This was exactly what she'd desperately missed these past several months. And in his comforting embrace, Hermione believed for the first time since Friday night that maybe everything truly would be okay.

* * *

He didn't know how long he stood there holding Hermione. It could have been a minute, or a handful of hours. But in that time all thoughts of Harry disappeared from his mind and each breath he took plunged him deeper into an inebriated state that had less to do with firewhiskey and everything to do with the perfume of the girl in his arms. His mind had gone hazy while his senses had sharpened until all that mattered in the world was Hermione and her intoxicating scent.

He continued to breathe her in, and with each passing second he became increasingly aware of a curious sensation overcoming him, something gentle and rhythmic, like the beat of beautiful music pulsing through him. He ignored it, preferring to focus instead on the warmth of Hermione's body against his, the feel of her slender figure beneath his hands, the flare of her hips, the curve of her—

Hermione abruptly withdrew from their embrace. She peered up at him, a slight frown on her face, and looking into his eyes, her own slowly widened.

"I — I think I should go now," she said in a voice just above a whisper. She stepped back cautiously, but he caught her arm before she could turn away.

"Hermione…" he said, his voice low and laced with lust.

A beautiful blush burned her face. "I need to go. Professor McGonagall's expecting me."

Avoiding his gaze, she pulled free from his grasp, but he caught her once more around her wrist. She glanced down at his unyielding grip, then her chocolate brown eyes returned to his. She bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers. It drove him mad watching her do it — _he_ wanted to be the one doing the biting.

He yanked her towards him and her sharp intake of breath as her body crashed into his further heated his blood. With his arm around her waist, he held her firmly, possessively, his gaze intent on her slightly parted lips. He ran his thumb over them, slowly along the bottom one, so delectably soft and full and red… Did she taste as delicious as her scent promised? It'd be easy to learn the answer. He tilted her chin up and mere centimeters separated their lips from touching.

But just as he was about to close that distance, the gentle pulse he'd noticed earlier picked up pace, pounding away within him now. He cocked his head curiously as it occurred to him the sensation was directly related to Hermione. He lowered his gaze to her chest and his hand followed, fingers slowly running down her silky skin, slipping just beneath the V-neck of her sweater. She went perfectly still, holding her breath, as he pressed his hand over her heart and confirmed that the pulse he was feeling belonged to her — somehow the beat of her heart was echoing inside him.

Regarding her with heightened interest, he raised his gaze again to her lovely face. Her eyes were closed, but they quickly fluttered open once more and met with his. And in that moment, holding her in his arms, gazing into her eyes, and feeling her heart beat within him, he felt like Hermione was his. And he wanted to _make_ her his. He wanted to feel more of her, wanted to taste her.

He tangled his hand in her hair, delighting in the way her breath hitched as he brushed his lips against her jaw, then nuzzled her neck, inhaling her deeply, drowning in her seductive scent.

"Remus," she whispered timidly in his ear. She squirmed weakly against him, but he only tightened his hold on her, relishing the feel of the tension in her body pressed against his, her fingers digging into his arm, her breaths coming quick and shallow as he continued to kiss her neck. A soft moan escaped her lips, and the sweet sound fueled his already raging desire and ignited deep, dark, dangerous impulses. He bared his teeth.

" _Remus!_ " she gasped when he nipped her neck. She squirmed again in his arms, her heartbeat frantic now, like that of frightened prey caught beneath the fangs of a wolf.

And then he remembered he _was_ a wolf.

The haze clouding his mind began to lift as if he was slowly waking from a dream, and he pulled away from Hermione slightly. He could smell her fear. But that wasn't all he perceived. There was something else she was struggling with, a distinct and more intense feeling that his touch had aroused…

He couldn't believe it. As clearly and as strongly as he felt his own desire for her, he sensed Hermione's longing for him. Though she knew she should flee, part of her wanted to stay, wanted _him_. She _yearned_ for him. He stared at her, absolutely stunned. How could a young, beautiful, clever witch like herself want somebody like him? It was completely unfathomable, yet it was also undeniably true. He could feel it in his blood, feel it in _hers_.

He would have loved to give her what she craved. He would have loved to fulfill every need and every wish she might have, and then some. But this violent lust he was feeling now was the wolf's, not his. At least, not entirely his. And though he was sorely tempted to give in to his wolfish instincts, he wouldn't. For some reason, the knowledge of her desire for him had a sobering effect.

His head clear and his sense of self returned, Remus released her immediately.

"I-I'm sorry, Hermione," he stammered, hastily backing away from her in a panic. _What had he just done?_ "I didn't mean to… I — I'm not quite myself tonight."

"I understand," she said breathlessly. "The full moon is only a few nights away and it — it affects you…" She glanced down at his mouth, a hint of longing still in her eyes despite having just caught a glimpse of his wolfish nature.

Remus turned away from her. With unsteady hands he seized the goblet she'd placed on the table earlier. "You should leave," he said before quickly downing the Wolfsbane Potion, though he knew it wouldn't help him in the least with these impulses, these feelings for Hermione. It didn't work on her for whatever reason, which was incredibly unfortunate considering she was the one who most affected him, and now, the only one who'd ever made him lose control.

He looked around at the door after he'd drained the foul-tasting tonic. Hermione stood paused at the threshold. She glanced back at him, then lowered her gaze and retreated from the room, leaving him to suffer alone with her lingering scent.


	32. Chapter 32

As Hermione's footsteps wandered through the halls of the hospital in search of a late afternoon cup of coffee, her mind wandered to Hogwarts and a certain professor's living quarters. Not for the first time, she found herself reliving her encounter with Remus last night.

If the circumstances had been slightly different, she would have accepted his advances without hesitation. She'd have given herself to him wholeheartedly, allowing things to lead to wherever they may. But she'd seen the wolf in his eyes, and as much as she trusted Remus and knew he had great self-control, that look in his eyes had frightened her a bit, like the first time she'd seen it in the past, when the younger Remus had gotten a little too aggressive and bitten her lip a bit too roughly as they'd snogged on the teacher's desk in the D.A.D.A. classroom.

After that incident, the younger Remus had told her he'd never lost control like that before, that she affected him differently, more intensely, than anybody else. So was that still true now? And if it was, what exactly did that mean? Why did she affect him differently? Was she special to him somehow? Could it be because he might have feelings for her?

Or maybe she wasn't special to him at all. Maybe, when the full moon was near, the wolf part of him reacted that way to any woman he came into contact with. But the Wolfsbane Potion was supposed to keep him from being affected that way. Why, then, had she affected him last night? Perhaps he hadn't been taking his potion properly this lunar cycle. She knew it was only effective if he took it at the same hour each day in the week leading up to the full moon. Maybe Remus had allowed too much time to elapse since his last goblet the day before and the potion's effects had worn off by the time she'd seen him last night.

Or perhaps he'd only acted that way because of the firewhiskey. Perhaps he—

Hermione stopped short when she arrived back to the floor Harry was on, confused by the commotion that greeted her in the waiting room. She blinked, unable to comprehend the flurry of activity and noise from the Weasleys, St. Mungo's staff, and fellow hospital visitors. Her confusion worsened when Ginny broke away from the crowd and ran up to her, her momentum nearly knocking them both over as she threw her arms around her and half-sobbing, half-laughing cried, "He's awake!"

"What?"

"He's awake! Harry's awake! The Healers are with him right now, but we'll be able to see him in a minute. _He's awake, Hermione!_ "

"He's awake?" Hermione hardly dared to believe it. But everyone in the waiting room was beaming and cheering. She caught Ron's eye amongst the hugging Weasleys, and with a tearful grin, he nodded.

A feeling, bright and swelling and full of incredible joy, relief, and gratitude, slowly filled her heart. And then she squealed, " _He's awake!"_ and joined Ginny in her happy dance, laughing and crying all at once.

"The Healers say it's a miracle," Ginny said. "But _he's_ the miracle really, isn't he?"

Hermione agreed and then demanded, "What happened, Ginny? You asked me earlier to give you and Harry some privacy because you wanted to talk to him — is that what made him finally react? What did you say to him?"

"That's what we wanted to know," Ron said as he and his parents came over to them.

"I told him that I loved him," Ginny said, wiping the tears from her glowing face, "and that he _had_ to wake up because I'm pregnant!"

"Y-you — you're _what?"_ Mr. Weasley spluttered, his eyes wide. Everyone else stared at Ginny as well, their jaws dropped.

"Pregnant!" she repeated brightly. "I told him he couldn't die because he was going to be a father, and then his hand twitched in mine and he started to wake up!"

"Ginny—"

"It isn't true, Dad. I'm not really pregnant. I just told him that to see if I could get him to react, and it worked! He's awake!"

She continued her cheering and so did the others, everyone except Mr. Weasley, who looked like he needed a minute to recover from the little scare his daughter had just given him. But it was great, fantastic, because Harry was awake and alive and everything truly was going to be okay.

* * *

"Professor Lupin? Sir? _Professor!"_

A startled Remus looked up from his desk to see one of his students poking his head around the door to his office. Apparently, the boy had been knocking and trying to get his attention for some time.

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't hear you. Come in. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could turn in this assignment from last week. I know you don't accept late work unless we have a good excuse for not turning it in on time, but I really need the points, and I do have an excuse, sort of, but—"

Remus took the assignment from the boy. "Thank you. Anything else?"

"Uh, no," Sam replied, clearly surprised it had been this easy to turn in his late work. Then, before his teacher could change his mind, he said, "Thanks, Professor!" and hurried away.

Remus began to look over the boy's homework but quickly abandoned his efforts and added the essay to the ever-growing stack of ungraded papers on his desk. His work had been piling up on him these last few days. He'd been too preoccupied worrying about Harry's critical condition and trying to research ways to help him to get much done. Now another troubling matter kept him from making any progress.

He hung his head in his hands, trying not to think about what happened last night with Hermione but unable to concentrate on anything else. He was unnerved and appalled by the way he'd behaved. He'd forced Hermione into an embrace. He'd touched her, kissed her, _bitten_ her — he wasn't supposed to bite under any circumstances this close to the full moon in case he lost himself to the most dangerous of his werewolf instincts. But he'd bitten her. He'd lost control.

He'd never lost control before. He'd always been able to keep in check the wolfish impulses he experienced in the days leading up to the full moon. It didn't matter how powerful the animal instinct was or if he'd taken Wolfsbane Potion or not, he'd always been able to suppress his cursed nature, or at least consciously choose whether to resist or give in to the impulses. Last night with Hermione was the only time he'd ever acted unconsciously. The wolf had taken over.

And he'd scared her. He'd scared himself. Nothing terrified him more than losing himself to the wolf. The wolf acted on pure instinct, greedily and aggressively, giving no thought to anything or anyone but its own needs and desires, and indulged in its every impulse, whether it be to satisfy its sexual appetite or its craving for human flesh.

He wasn't sure which of those impulses he'd been experiencing with Hermione last night, or if it had been both, when he'd wanted to taste her and had been overcome with the strong urge to bite her. But he had bitten her. Not hard enough to hurt her or infect her, but he'd bitten her, and just the thought of how he _could_ have hurt her if he hadn't snapped out of the wolfish mindset and regained his sense of self when he did made him feel nauseous.

Remus looked up at the sound of an owl pecking at his window. He retrieved the letter it was carrying before sinking into his chair again. The letter was from his old friend Hugh Hawthorne. Remus had postponed the dinner he was supposed to have with Hugh and his girlfriend Rosalind a few days ago because of what happened to Harry, and he supposed Hugh just wanted to know how things were going.

But he didn't read the letter to find out. The sound of the owl tapping at his window had reminded him of a gentler, more rhythmic beat he'd felt last night: Hermione's heartbeat. How was it that it had echoed inside him last night? And how had he felt what she'd been feeling? It had been more than him just sensing her emotions, he'd _felt_ them as if they were his, but they hadn't been his.

And last night might not have been the first time something like this had happened. Now that he thought about it, there'd been a few other similar occurrences before that, times when he'd felt things he hadn't quite understood, feelings he hadn't been sure were even his.

A few months ago, when a tearful Hermione had confided to him her boy problems, he remembered feeling deeply afflicted by her anguish. But apart from his sympathy for her, he remembered also feeling her sorrow acutely and wrestling with other emotions he hadn't quite understood. Was it because they'd been _her_ feelings?

And a few weeks after that incident, after he'd had that snowball fight with Hermione and they'd stood together by the fire in his office, he'd felt something strange. An unfamiliar feeling he couldn't quite identify had overcome him. It was the same feeling he'd felt at the Burrow on Christmas Eve. After he and Hermione had exchanged gifts, he'd felt something warm and intense and swelling in his chest as they'd gazed at each other, and he'd known instinctively it wasn't his emotion but hers.

But how could that be? How could he have felt what she'd been feeling? He'd never heard of such an unusual phenomenon. Was it because of his lycanthropy? But even with his heightened wolf senses during this time of month, it wasn't normal for him to be able to feel someone else's emotions like he'd felt Hermione's fear and desire last night. And although he'd felt her emotions more clearly and strongly during last night's incident than he had during the others, the other incidents hadn't always occurred in the days before the full moon, so perhaps his lycanthropy had nothing to do with it. What other explanation was there, then?

Remus skipped dinner and headed to the library to try to figure that out. But research couldn't help him with what perhaps troubled and confused him most about last night: Hermione's longing and desire…for him. But she couldn't really feel that way about him, could she? She'd just been vulnerable last night because of Harry and had only wanted comfort, and he'd just happened to be there. Those other feelings he'd sensed from her — she must have been confused. She couldn't really be attracted to him… Could she?

After an hour or so of poring through books in the library and finding nothing that could explain what had happened with Hermione last night, Remus gave it up. He could hardly concentrate anyway and just thinking about the incident so much caused the wolf to stir inside him.

Feeling restless, he retired to his office and automatically reached for the goblet of Wolfsbane Potion he'd left on his desk earlier. But the goblet wasn't there. He frowned. He could have sworn he'd left it right there on the corner of his desk, but its absence suggested otherwise. He shook his head. His brain was utterly useless today.

Believing he must have left the potion in his living quarters, Remus passed through the door leading to his sitting room. The potion wasn't on the table there either. He glanced around, perplexed as to what he could have done with it, and spotted something red strewn across the floor. He eyed the unfamiliar object warily before stepping closer. It was a scarf. And on the floor beyond it was a long black coat. And beyond that, a black dress…

Remus irrationally thought of Hermione even though the scent was wrong. His blood surging, he shot past the trail of clothing leading to his bedroom, crashed through the half-open door, and then halted in his tracks just inside. Lying provocatively on his bed and wearing nothing but revealing red lingerie was Vivienne.

He blinked. "What are you doing?"

She smirked, amusement glinting in her eyes. "What does it look like? I've been waiting for you."

Remus struggled to keep his gaze from roaming hungrily over her figure. "How did you get in here?"

"I have my ways." Vivienne shifted on his bed, tossing back her blonde hair. "Aren't you going to join me, Professor Lupin?"

Remus stood there tensely, torn between his base instincts and his good sense. With difficulty, he said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh? And why not?"

Why not? He didn't know — it was hard to think clearly right now — but he said, "You shouldn't be here."

"I abhor being told what I should and shouldn't do." Vivienne rose from his bed and started across the room. "I'm a grown woman, Remus." He could see that. He couldn't stop himself from admiring her voluptuous figure as she slinked towards him. She lightly ran her fingers up his arm to his chest. "I do what I want. And what I want" —she clutched his shirt, her eyes smoldering— "is you."

She pulled him into a searing kiss and a powerful lust flared within him. But this wasn't right. The feeling was too violent. It took an enormous amount of effort, but he broke away from their kiss.

"I'm sorry, Vivienne," he said, pulling away from her, "but this really isn't a good time."

"Au contraire," she said, closing in on him again. "It happens to be the perfect time." She returned his hands to her hips and moved her mouth to his neck. Between kisses, she whispered seductively, "I want you, Remus, and I know you want me. I know you feel this delicious attraction between us."

He was feeling it. An animal attraction, something feral. His wolfish impulses were intermingling with his human desire as he touched her warm skin, as they kissed. But they weren't supposed to be. Then he remembered.

"My potion — I haven't taken it tonight. The full moon—"

"Don't worry about that," she interrupted, caressing his chest. "It's gone now."

"What?"

"Don't worry, Remus." Her hand slowly traveled south. "Just focus on you and me..."

He struggled with the sensations her tantalizing touch elicited. Because although he was strongly tempted to just throw caution to the wind and give in tonight — it'd been a long time since he'd last been with a woman — he knew he shouldn't allow this. He always abstained in the nights before the full moon for fear of losing himself to the wolf, and Vivienne must not realize how dangerous he could be if his self-control wavered.

"Vivienne, I need my potion. I must take it every day or—"

"You don't _need_ that poison, Remus. You're the tamest, most repressed werewolf I've ever met, which means what you really need is _release_. You must be desperate for it. I can help you relieve some of that tension you're feeling."

"Don't," he said, removing her hands from his belt. "We can't do this—

"Don't fight your true nature, Remus. Accept it. _Embrace_ it. I got rid of that potion so you could be free with me tonight. It's the perfect time. Four nights until the full moon — you're at your sexual peak."

"No!" he said angrily, rejecting her touch. He stepped back from her, glaring. He couldn't believe she was one of _those_ women. He'd encountered her type before — the kind of person who knew a werewolf's libido was revved up in the days preceding the full moon, who knew that a werewolf lost himself completely to his carnal desires, and who was curious and reckless enough to want to bed one. He should have realized it before. He'd been an idiot not to see what Vivienne was really after, but her intentions were perfectly clear now, her true interest in him revealed, and he despised it fiercely. "So that's all you want, is it? The thrill of a night with a werewolf?"

"I was looking for a bit more than that, actually."

"What, a monthly arrangement?"

"There's nothing more liberating or more satisfying than a werewolf's love. You'd know that if you'd stop trying to deny your true nature."

"That's not my true nature. The wolf isn't who I am."

"Don't fool yourself. It's all that you are. It's what controls you."

"You're wrong. _I_ have the control."

"Want to bet?"

Catching him off guard, Vivienne shoved him hard against the wall and claimed his lips with her own. She was purposely provoking him, kissing him roughly and pressing her body against his, forcing him to wrestle with the ferocious impulses firing away inside him. And against his better nature, Remus gave in to his instincts.

They engaged in a wild embrace, his shirt and her brassiere torn off and thrown aside to the floor as they staggered across the room. Vivienne landed beneath him on his bed, her touch greedy and grasping, her fingernails harsh against his scarred skin, as though she wanted to leave a mark of her own upon him. He seized her wrists and pinned them down above her head.

"So this is you in control, is it?" she crowed.

His grip slackened. Vivienne rolled them over and straddled him.

"Feel this," she panted, clutching his fingers. She pressed his hand to her chest, telling him to feel how alive and exhilarated she was because of him. She wanted him to feel her heart racing for his inner wolf. And he did. But her pulse was faint and foreign. He couldn't feel her heart like he'd felt Hermione's last night, as if it were his own, beating life into his body and soul. He felt nothing from Vivienne and even less _for_ her.

"I don't feel a thing," he said coldly. Then, before she could react, he lifted her off him and scrambled away from her before she could entangle him again.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, crawling out of bed after him. "Get back—"

"You need to leave."

"I'm not leaving! Come on, Remus—"

"Get out." He found his wand on the floor and aimed it at her. "I don't want to see you again."

Vivienne glared between him and the wand he held threateningly.

"Fine," she said with a snarl. "But I caught a glimpse of the real you tonight, Remus, and you can't keep holding back forever. You can't keep caging yourself. You're going to break free eventually, whether you want to or not, and I hope you'll come find me when you do."

She snatched her dress and coat from the floor and slipped them on before storming out of his living quarters.

After Remus secured his doors, he threw the scarf and lingerie Vivienne had left behind into the fire and paced the room, more restless than ever and sickened by what had just occurred, sickened by his own cursed nature. He hated that he was capable of losing himself to his animalistic desires. But he wasn't the wolf. The wolf was part of him, but not by choice, so it wasn't really who he was.

Still, Vivienne's parting words unsettled him: _You're going to break free eventually, whether you want to or not…_

* * *

Hermione tried not to think about it. She tried to focus on the joy of seeing her best friend alive and talking after days of him being unconscious and on the brink of death. But the overwhelming happiness she'd felt before was now tainted.

She had thought of Remus earlier tonight and how happy and relieved he'd be once he received word that Harry was okay. She'd contemplated going to Hogwarts and telling him the extraordinary news herself, but she'd decided that might not be the best idea considering what had happened between them last night. So instead she'd taken out the Marauder's Map to watch Remus's dot as she sometimes did, to feel a bit closer to him in these wonderful moments. Just as she'd expected, he had been in his living quarters. But he hadn't been alone. There'd been two dots in his bedroom, one his, the other Vivienne's.

Hermione wished she hadn't seen.

* * *

 **A/N:** As I post this chapter and look at how I've planned this story, I realize I'm making Hermione suffer a lot. I guess I really am cruel :(

Thanks for reading! And thank you so much for your faves, follows, and reviews! It's always so helpful and encouraging and a lot of fun to get your thoughts on the chapter.

I hope you have a wonderful New Year!


	33. Chapter 33

Guilt and shame gnawed at Remus during class with the seventh year Gryffindors. Hermione wouldn't look at him. Every time his gaze landed on her as he lectured, hers was downcast, intent on the notes she was silently taking. Never once did she raise her hand or answer a question. Never once did her eyes meet his.

He knew she was angry with him. He knew she must be appalled and disgusted by the way he'd behaved that night in his living quarters, and he couldn't blame her for it. He felt the same way. He'd crossed a line and had been too ashamed and cowardly to speak to her since she'd returned to Hogwarts after Harry recovered.

He stayed away from her now as well as she and her classmates practiced in pairs during the practical part of the lesson. He realized, though, he probably should have talked things out with her before they'd had to face each other in class today, to try to make things less awkward between them, because her classmates couldn't have failed to notice her pronounced silence and the way she and her professor were avoiding each other.

But Remus knew he and Hermione couldn't avoid each other forever. They had yet to get together this week to discuss their plans for Defense Club on Friday, and as the class period was coming to a close, Remus decided this was as good a time as any to do that. Although they normally met in his office and spent the better part of the evening together planning these practice sessions and just talking, he feared after what had happened between them they might never do that again. He was devastated at the thought. Those hours he spent with her were the best part of his week.

"Hermione," he said at the end of the lesson, "could you stay a moment, please? I'd like to have a word with you about Defense Club."

As he'd feared — because the last thing he wanted was for there to be any talk about him and Hermione — some of his students glanced curiously between him and the Head Girl on their way out of the classroom.

Remus nervously watched Hermione join him by his desk, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She clearly didn't want to be anywhere near him, so he quickly informed her what they'd be doing at the next meeting, keeping this conversation as brief as possible. She nodded along curtly as he talked but still wouldn't look at him directly.

"So is that all then?" she asked brusquely when he finished speaking. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, that's all."

She'd already begun to stride away from him when Remus changed his mind.

"No, wait, Hermione. There is another matter we need to discuss."

She stopped and turned her head slightly so that he had a glimpse of her profile. "And what matter is that?"

"The reason why you're angry with me," he said tentatively. "We need to talk about — about what happened last week, that night…"

"I'd rather we didn't."

"Hermione, please, let me explain—"

"Explain what exactly?" she said, whipping around like a sudden shift in a furious wind. "What could you possibly have to say to me about _that_?"

Her eyes had met his at last and now he wished they hadn't. Hurt fueled her glare more than anything else.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. You have every right to be upset—"

"Of course I'm upset! I didn't think you were — And I can't believe you — you — you and _her!"_

His contrition turned to confusion. "Her?"

"Yes, her!"

Remus stared at her uncomprehendingly. "Who? What are you—?"

"No one. Nothing. It doesn't matter anymore," she snapped, a bitter edge to her voice, and she turned away from him.

"Hermione, wait." He reached for her without thinking but immediately pulled back again. He wasn't supposed to touch her. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly as she reluctantly faced him once more. "For the way I behaved toward you that night in my quarters," he elaborated to make sure they had the same incident in mind. "It was completely inappropriate and I can't apologize enough for scaring you and making you uncomfortable. I promise you that won't happen again."

She bit her lip as she contemplated him. Then in a soft voice she said, "You weren't yourself that night."

"No, I wasn't."

"It was just the wolf. _You_ would never kiss me."

He wanted to desperately, but, "No," he reassured her. "I wouldn't."

For some reason, her face fell. "I understand," she said, nodding slightly and lowering her gaze. "I… I have to go."

She didn't seem angry anymore, but she looked somehow deflated as she started toward the door. When she reached it, she paused and looked back at him. "I should probably tell you George Weasley will be my date next Saturday night."

Remus frowned. Why on earth should she tell him that? Then he remembered the upcoming dance. Since George did not attend Hogwarts he'd have to be approved by him, Hermione's Head of House, in order to be allowed to attend the dance as a guest.

"I'm sure you approve?" she said.

Not in the least, but he replied, "Of course. So long as he passes Filch's inspection with the Secrecy Sensor upon entering the castle."

"Great." And with that settled, she left the classroom.

Remus stood there, peeved by the mention of George and bewildered by Hermione's earlier words. They'd clearly had different incidents in mind at the start of their conversation. What had she been thinking of? What else had he done last week to make her so upset? Who was the 'her' she'd referred to?

Could it be Vivienne? But Hermione had been at St. Mungo's at the time and so she couldn't have known about Vivienne's visit to Hogwarts. And even if she did know, why would she care? Could it be that the idea of him with another woman displeased her just as the thought of her with George displeased him?

He doubted it. It was much more likely he'd be the only one suffering next Saturday night.

* * *

Talk of the dance dominated the chatter in the corridors the following week. Anticipation for the event steadily escalated as Saturday drew nearer and the students' excitement peaked when the evening of the dance finally arrived.

Hermione was not nearly as excited as everyone else, but she took special care in getting herself ready that night. She didn't know why. She'd never be able to compare to Vivienne. The older witch was gorgeous and curvy and sensual in a way she could never be. Still, she wanted to look her absolute best tonight.

And when she descended the marble staircase alongside Ginny and Luna, wearing her blush pink dress and her hair in soft side-swept waves, and George's jaw dropped when he spotted her from the entrance hall, Hermione felt she had succeeded.

"Wow, Hermione," George said as she reached him. "You look… Wow."

She smiled. She couldn't remember a time she'd ever seen a Weasley twin lost for words like this. "You look dashing yourself."

Harry and Ron — Ginny and Luna's dates — were also taken by the girls' dolled up appearances.

Ron blinked rapidly at the sight of Luna in her sky blue dress. "You look great!"

Luna beamed. "Thanks. You do as well. Though I'm a bit disappointed you're not wearing the same costume you wore to the Yule Ball. I've heard such funny stories about those dress robes and I think I would have liked to see them."

Harry and George snorted, and even Ron smiled a bit at the memory of his ridiculous old dress robes.

"I'm so happy you're here," Hermione told Harry as she hugged him. "I'm glad you decided to come after all."

He had hesitated to come tonight because of all the attention he'd been receiving recently from his latest brush with death. But for the most part, the students at Hogwarts were being respectful and leaving him be.

"Me too. It's great to be back in this place. It looks like home again," Harry said, looking around at the familiar entrance hall which had been battle-worn and nearly unrecognizable less than a year ago. "And it's nice being back here just for the fun and not having to worry about homework."

Ron agreed, and Hermione said, "As I remember it, you two were never overly concerned with your homework anyway."

"Well, that was one of the perks of having you as a best friend," Ron replied. "You were concerned enough for the three of us. Don't know where I'd be without your helping hand."

"I don't know if I helped you or hurt you by bailing you out all those times that I did."

"Yeah, how do you get along without her now when you have to do paperwork at the Auror Office?" Ginny asked her brother.

"Hey, I've grown up a bit, I can handle more responsibility. I'm not so lazy and immature as I was when I was one of these kids." Then, gawking at the younger students milling around them, Ron asked, "Were we ever that scrawny-looking and acne-prone?"

"You still are, little brother," George replied, clapping him on the back.

Their banter continued as their party of six headed into the Great Hall. The grand room was decorated fabulously for the occasion, in honor of Valentine's Day the following day. Pink and silver satin draped the walls and starry ceiling and the long House tables were replaced by small, round lantern-lit tables sprinkled with heart-shaped confetti.

They joined Neville and his girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, for dinner at a table near the larger table at the top of the hall where the staff was seated. While Ginny pushed her food around her plate and grumbled about not wanting to eat too much because of the unforgiving dress she was wearing, Hermione's gaze swept over her professors until she spotted Remus. She was surprised not to see Vivienne by his side.

"To hell with it. I don't care if I have a food baby later, I'm starving," Ginny said and began digging into her dinner with relish.

Hermione laughed and followed her lead without hesitation.

Shortly after they'd enjoyed their delicious dinner, a band trooped onto the stage that had been set up along the right wall. Hermione applauded along with everyone else, excited for them to play, until Neville tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked. Upon seeing her blank expression, he added, "We're supposed to open the dance, remember?"

"Oh right," she said, quickly getting to her feet as the music started. But she wasn't too keen to fulfill this particular duty of the Head Boy and Girl. Although she'd had to open the Yule Ball as well, she hadn't minded that as much because she and Krum were one of four pairs in the spotlight. Now it was only her and Neville.

"Watch where you put those hands, Longbottom," George teased as the pair started toward the dance floor. "I'm watching you."

Hermione tried not to look out at her schoolmates as she and Neville proceeded to the center of the room and began to dance. She focused instead on trying not to trip over her dress while everybody was watching them. Neville appeared to be concentrating on his steps as well.

"I'm nervous. Are you nervous?" she whispered to him.

"Yeah, I'm a terrible dancer. I think I stepped on Ginny's toes about a hundred times at the Yule Ball. So, sorry in advance."

"Don't worry. You're doing great."

He only trod on her toes twice before George cut in and Neville went to dance with Hannah.

"What are you grinning about?" Hermione asked her beaming date.

"I'm grinning because I'm a very lucky man to be here dancing with you," George replied. "You look amazing tonight. You always look pretty, but you look especially lovely like this. If Remus doesn't come to his senses and realize he's in love with you tonight, he's a fool."

Hermione smiled. Although she knew Remus didn't care as much about looks as most guys and probably couldn't care less if she used Sleekeazy's Hair Potion or not — his younger self had actually told her he _liked_ her bushy hair — she supposed it didn't hurt to look nice tonight.

"Speaking of our favorite professor," George said, "he's staring at you."

Hermione furtively glanced past the dancing couples beside them to where Remus was sitting and talking with Hagrid.

"He's not," she said, turning back to George.

"He was. I bet he'll be chasing after you to declare his love by the end of the night."

"You shouldn't get my hopes up like this. What if that doesn't happen?"

"Then at least you'll have had a wonderfully fun time with me."

When the song came to an end, Hermione and George headed back to their group of friends who were standing at the edge of dance floor now and talking to Hagrid, his date Madame Maxine, and Remus. Hermione was too distracted admiring her Defense professor to join in her friends' chatter. He looked exceptionally handsome tonight in his perfectly fitted black jacket and trousers.

Ginny grinned when she caught her staring at him. Then, during a pause in the conversation, the redhead gave her a sly wink and said, "Merlin's beard, Hermione! I just can't get over how incredible you look in that dress! She's stunning, isn't she?"

Hermione's face went pink as the entire group's attention focused on her, and everyone agreed with Ginny and gave her flattering compliments. Everyone except for Remus. He stayed silent, taking a sip of his drink to excuse himself from having to respond, and Hermione couldn't help but feel disheartened. But when George asked her to dance again shortly after, she put on the brightest smile she could manage and took his hand.

George was a great dancer but a bit too exuberant for Hermione at times. Still, she had loads of fun dancing with her friends. Beside her, Luna twisted and twirled in her own unique style, and Ron was going along with her as best as anyone could, grinning often at his partner's quirkiness. Harry and Ginny's dance moves were less conspicuous than those of the other two couples, yet they were attracting by far the most attention. Harry, as always, was ogled at for being the Chosen One, and Ginny looked simply divine in her bold red dress. Nearly all the girls in her proximity were throwing her dirty looks for drawing their dates' eyes away from them.

Hermione's eyes also strayed. She stole glances at Remus whenever she could. He sat chatting with his fellow professors at the staff table the majority of the time, but he also danced a few songs with Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Professor Avila. Hermione was pleased he hadn't brought Vivienne as his date but felt frustrated all the same because he still wasn't dancing with _her._

The band struck up a slow tune, and as she swayed to the music with George, she wished it could be Remus's arms around her waist instead of his. She wished everyone in the hall would just disappear and leave her and Remus alone so they could finally have their dance together under this beautiful starry night ceiling. But with the situation as it was now between them, it seemed that could only ever happen in her dreams.

* * *

After Professor Flitwick cut in to his dance with Professor Avila, Remus returned to the staff table for a drink. He stood there at the top of the hall, swigging butterbeer and watching the band play before his attention was drawn to a group of goofy fourth years playing limbo with a girl's shawl. It was then that he sensed somebody approaching him.

"Hello, Remus."

His pulse quickened as he glanced right to see Hermione stepping beside him. He returned her greeting, but swiftly averted his gaze back to the dance floor. Ginny had been absolutely right earlier when she'd said Hermione looked stunning — she'd taken his breath away when he'd first seen her entering the Great Hall — but as much as he would have liked to admire her and the way she looked in that dress, he had to look away.

Hermione too gazed out at the dance floor, and they took in the scene before them without saying a word. Remus was afraid to speak first. He knew she was still upset with him, but he considered the act of her coming over and standing beside him, however quietly, as a good sign. They watched the goofy fourth years form a conga line and snake through the crowd of dancers. Their line quickly lengthened as other students joined in.

"I thought Vivienne would be your date tonight," Hermione said unexpectedly. "The two of you are involved, aren't you?"

Remus slanted a curious glance down at her. She was staring straight ahead, her expression unreadable. "No. Not at all."

"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow skeptically and casting him an oblique glance in turn. "She seemed very interested in you the last time I saw you together. And she's a very attractive woman, don't you think?"

There was a bitterness in her tone like the one he'd perceived when they'd last spoken alone, and he heard it mirrored in his own voice when he replied, "I've met women like her before. I prefer to steer clear from that type."

"And what type is that?"

"The type that only comes around when the full moon is near."

He spoke without thinking and immediately regretted it. He shouldn't have said that to Hermione. The implications were inappropriate, though, thankfully, she seemed not to understand exactly what he'd meant. She looked around at him fully now, a question in her eyes, but he didn't allow her the opportunity to ask it.

"Where's George?" he inquired instead.

"Right here," George answered, his sudden arrival surprising both him and Hermione. "Thanks for keeping my date company, Remus." He casually put his arm around her, and resentment flickered inside Remus just as it had earlier when he'd seen them dancing together. "If you'll excuse us, we've got some more dancing to do."

Remus stared after them as they sauntered off to the dance floor, an ugly feeling in his chest. And the feeling only got uglier when he saw George stealthily lead Hermione through the crowd, to the door, and out of the Great Hall.

* * *

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione wondered aloud as she followed George into an unlocked classroom. She shifted onto the teacher's desk. "Women who only come around when the full moon is near… What exactly did he mean by that?"

George hopped onto the desk beside her, studying the Marauder's Map she'd handed over to him moments before. He seemed so absorbed by whatever it was he was checking out that Hermione thought he wasn't even listening to her anymore, but then he said, "I think I know."

She looked at him expectantly, but he didn't elaborate. He just continued to study the map.

"Well?" she demanded after a few moments.

"Bill told Fred and me a few weeks ago about this woman who hit on him because she saw the scars on his face and thought he was a werewolf. I think some people are really into that, and I guess Vivienne is one of them. Great. I'll just tell Fred that all he needs to do in order to have a shot with her is to get bitten next full moon. Easy-peasy."

Hermione frowned. "But why would…? I mean, it's one thing to be attracted to someone who's a werewolf, but to only be interested in them during the full moon—?"

" _Before_ the full moon," George corrected, finally raising his gaze to hers. "When the werewolf's human self is being influenced by the wolf part of him. Bill's said he's noticed a change in his behavior and instincts since he's been bitten, even though he isn't actually a werewolf, so I imagine it must be much more pronounced in a true, full-fledged werewolf like Remus."

For a moment Hermione still didn't quite understand. But then she remembered the ways werewolves were affected in the days preceding the full moon and how Remus himself had behaved towards her the last full moon.

"Oh," she said as it dawned on her at last what women like Vivienne desired. She shifted self-consciously in her seat, very aware of George watching her curiously. "But — but a werewolf could be dangerous before the full moon as well if he doesn't have access to Wolfsbane Potion."

"I suppose that's part of the appeal. They're attracted to that sense of danger."

Hermione contemplated what this meant in regard to Remus and Vivienne. She knew Remus despised the wolf part of himself, and judging by his tone earlier, he despised the type of woman attracted to that nature. So could it be true that he and Vivienne weren't involved? Was it possible that nothing had happened between them, that he had turned her away that night she'd been in his living quarters?

"This is perfect," said George suddenly as he studied the map again.

"What's perfect?"

He tucked the map into his jacket and slid off the desk to stand before her. "Hermione," he said, a devious gleam in his eyes, "I just want you to know what I'm about to do is ninety percent because I truly want to help you and only ten percent because I'm a shameless opportunist taking advantage of the situation."

"What—?"

"Just follow my lead, will you?"

The next thing she knew, George was kissing her passionately, and then _BANG!_ — the door burst open with a blast of magic. Hermione hastily pushed George away from her and looked around at the classroom's entrance. Warmth flooded her face when her eyes met with Remus.

* * *

Remus found what he'd expected, but nothing could have prepared him for the feelings that arose within him at the sight of Hermione and George snogging inside the classroom. It was even worse than seeing them on Christmas Eve. He stared at Hermione as she scrambled off the teacher's desk, her face flushed as she gazed back at him with wide eyes.

"Oops," murmured George, nonchalantly tearing through the strained silence between them. "Forgot to lock the door."

Remus glared at him, the wolf inside writhing with outrage. But he had to control himself. He had no right to behave like some sort of betrayed man or jealous lover. He and Hermione were nothing — at least in _her_ heart and mind. As a teacher, however, he did have reason to be stern.

"The two of you should be down in the Great Hall," he told them in a carefully controlled tone. "Guests tonight aren't permitted anywhere else in the castle."

"Sorry," said George, not looking sorry at all. "We didn't know."

Remus turned his gaze again to Hermione. _She_ had known the rules, and she'd deliberately disregarded them to be alone with George.

"We weren't — we weren't doing anything," Hermione stammered. "We just came in here to talk and he — but I didn't—"

"Enough," Remus said quietly, unable to believe she was trying to deny something he'd just seen with his own eyes. "I'm disappointed in you, Hermione. As Head Girl, you should be setting a better example."

Her eyes glistened with tears. Remus felt a twinge of guilt but made no attempt to stop her as she ran past him and out of the room, leaving him alone with George.

"I think you're being too hard on her, Remus," the younger wizard said, stepping toward him. "Hermione's an excellent Head Girl—" he gave him a wink— "if you know what I mean."

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Remus's clenched fist collided hard with George's cheeky grin.

The Weasley staggered from the blow and cursed eloquently, almost cheerfully, before he righted himself again. Blood stained his fingers as he touched his busted lip, yet there was laughter in his eyes as he peered at Remus, who was barely managing to control this uncharacteristic aggression threatening to burst from him.

"It was only a joke," George said. "The double entendre was too good to pass up."

"Hermione deserves to be shown far more respect than that!"

"I show her plenty of respect."

Remus was incensed, but George seemed more amused than anything else. There was an air of triumph about him and it only exacerbated Remus's anger. "I ought to throw you out."

"That would be pointless. You know I could find a way to sneak back into the castle if I wanted to — thanks in part to you and that clever little map of yours. But don't you think you're overreacting? Hermione and I were just snogging."

"As I said before, guests tonight are permitted only in the Great Hall. The rest of Hogwarts is out of bounds."

"You mean Hermione is out of bounds," said George shrewdly. "But you saw how amazing she looks tonight. You can't blame me for not being able to resist a little snogging in a lonely classroom. After all, you did the same with her when you were seventeen."

"What—?"

"I said you'd do the same as me if you were in my position. And I think that's what's really bothering you, why you're busy busting me when you know there's got to be at least a dozen other students sneaking around the castle right now, students who respect the rules and themselves much less than Hermione does — because you wish you were in my position. Well, if you want her so much, why don't you just go after her?"

"You are out of line and completely off base, and I will hear no more of this. You are going to return to the Great Hall and you will conduct yourself like a gentleman or you will be escorted out of the castle. Do you understand?"

"More than you know," George replied with an infuriating smile. He stepped around the seething Remus, but before he walked out the door he turned back to him and said, "Hermione was telling the truth, by the way. We came in here to talk. About you, actually. You're Hermione's favorite subject. I only kissed her when I saw on the map you were checking classrooms and heading straight toward us. I wanted to rile you up, you see."

He'd certainly succeeded. "Why?" Remus demanded, a fresh surge of anger coursing through him.

"I thought it might help."

And without further explanation, George left Remus to mull over his puzzling words and his own raging emotions.

* * *

Slumped at a table in a corner of the Great Hall, Hermione watched glumly as the smiling couples danced before her and glided gracefully across the floor. She stared blindly at all the beautiful dresses twirling, their various colors swirling and blurring together until they all faded away and everyone disappeared.

She wandered around the now empty Great Hall, gazing up at the ceiling and the shifting night sky. The stars were hiding behind rolling clouds tonight. Their pinpricks of light briefly peeked out from their cover every now and again, but then they were concealed once more, denying stargazers the chance to bask in their collective brilliance. The darkness only heightened her discouraged mood.

Footfalls sounded behind her. She spun around, ready to tell George off for what he'd done, but he wasn't the one who had come to find her.

"Hermione," Remus said tentatively, "forgive me. I… I shouldn't have reacted so harshly earlier—"

"No, you shouldn't have!" Her voice echoed in the desolate hall, the bitter frustration that had been building inside her ready to burst free now. "Especially since you're the one inviting women to your quarters here at school when you shouldn't be!"

"Hermione—"

"And it isn't fair! You have no right to be disappointed in me! You have no right to tell me—"

"Hermione," Remus interrupted more loudly this time, "listen to me a moment. Please. I need to tell you… I remember."

The bristling Hermione suddenly subdued. "You — you what?"

"I remember," he repeated, gazing at her intently.

Her heart began to pound. "R-remember what exactly?"

"You and me…in the past. Everything."

"But — but how?"

"George."

Hermione couldn't believe it. Had that been George's plan to help her all along, to tell Remus everything?

"I'm sorry," she said as the horrible memory of the boggart-Remus telling her that her actions in the past were a violation of his trust flashed through her mind. "Please, _please_ let me ex—"

But Remus didn't let her explain. Instead, he silenced her with a kiss.

His lips captured hers, taking her completely by surprise, and she sensed the wolf in the way he pulled her body flush against his, his gentle kiss quickly turning ravenous, and _sweet Merlin_ — nothing could have prepared her for this moment. Her heart might have exploded with all the love and longing she felt for him, all the love and longing she'd had to hide for too long and that she poured freely into her kiss now. She couldn't believe after all this time she was finally back in his arms.

When they broke their kiss, Remus gazed at her with warmth and wonder. "You still have feelings for me," he said softly.

It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway with a breathless, "Yes."

"And I still owe you a dance, don't I? Shall we?"

He offered her his hand, but ecstatic that he'd remembered, Hermione flung her arms around him instead and kissed him again, like she'd wanted to do so many times the last several months. She felt Remus smile against her lips, and their dance forgotten once more, he swept her off her feet.

He was carrying her away, through doors and along corridors, and through the windows pinpricks of light shone brightly in the dark sky. The stars had revealed themselves tonight after all. She was basking in their brilliance and she had to be the happiest soul in the castle. This was the best night of her life until — until…

 _Oh no, please, don't let this be a dream…_

Hermione, still wearing her blush pink dress, reluctantly opened her eyes to her Remusless dormitory and the starless night sky outside her window. She gave a frustrated groan and turned over in bed, burying her face in her pillow.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sure many of you are probably feeling frustrated like Hermione at this point, but some truths will be revealed and feelings confessed _soon_ …


	34. Chapter 34

Remus awoke late Sunday morning feeling groggy and grumpy from the little sleep he'd gotten last night. He'd been consumed by thoughts of Hermione and racked with apprehension at the shrewd conclusion George had drawn about him. The Weasley had seen right through him last night. He'd sensed his jealousy and knew he had feelings for Hermione.

" _Well, if you want her so much, why don't you just go after her?"_

Because he was old enough to be her father, for starters. And he'd likely lose her friendship if she knew how he felt. He feared that she _did_ know how he felt now, feared George had told his girlfriend that he suspected her professor had an inappropriate interest in her, or worse, that she herself had realized he had feelings for her after seeing his ill-disguised jealousy last night. He should have been more careful, more guarded. He'd acted rashly when he'd gone after Hermione and George when they'd left the Great Hall, and he'd been foolish to fall for George's provocations.

Remus had already missed breakfast by the time he finally mustered enough energy to drag himself out of bed. He thought he'd visit the kitchens for a bite, but first he checked the post that awaited him on the table in his sitting room. Along with today's edition of the _Daily Prophet_ were a couple of surprises — valentines. He'd forgotten it was Valentine's Day today. But who would have sent him these gifts?

The first package was of assorted sweets. The card attached revealed it was from Professor Avila, graciously thanking him for the dances last night. The other gift was a box of his favorite chocolates from Honeydukes. Remus knew before even looking at the card that it was from Vivienne. He crumpled the unread note and dumped it in the rubbish bin along with the chocolates.

He was about to leave for the kitchens, but then the headline on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ arrested his attention. He seized the paper and quickly read through the article. There'd been a werewolf attack last night, one involving his old schoolmate Hugh Hawthorne and his girlfriend Rosalind. . . .

His appetite gone, Remus skipped his trip to the kitchens and left the castle for St. Mungo's to see his friend.

* * *

Hermione was on her way to the library when she heard an unwelcome voice calling her name from behind her in the corridor. She sped up to avoid George, not in any mood to see him after what he'd done last night.

"Wait up, Hermione," he said, chasing after her. "We have to talk. Or we could continue where we left off last night and snog, whichever you prefer."

Irked by the humor in his voice, Hermione whipped around. Her anger flared at the sight of the smirk on his face and she unleashed her indignation upon him.

"I can't believe you did that! I thought you were trying to help me! Now Remus just thinks I'm —"

"I _was_ trying to help you," George argued, "and I did! You should be thanking me right now."

"For what? Getting me into trouble?"

"No, for proving Moony is totally in love with you."

"What on earth makes you think that?"

"Come on, we can talk in here," he said, opening the door to the classroom nearest them, and Hermione realized their raised voices had attracted the attention of a few students down the corridor who'd stopped to stare at them.

Still, she didn't budge. "I am not going in there with you. Not after that stunt you pulled last night."

George rolled his eyes. "I promise I won't pull anything like that again. I'll behave myself, all right?"

Hermione reluctantly followed him into the privacy of the classroom but kept her distance for his safety. She had a sudden urge to set birds on him like she'd once done to his younger brother.

"We didn't get a chance to talk about what happened last night," George said, seating himself upon one of the desks while she stood, arms crossed over her chest. "You disappeared on me."

"Well, I wasn't very happy with you."

"You should be happy with the way things turned out. You saw how Remus reacted when he saw the two of us together."

"Yeah, he was disappointed in me and angry."

"He was jealous. He couldn't stand seeing us together. He even punched me in the face after you left, nearly broke my jaw."

Hermione examined him for evidence of this surprising claim, but if it was true, George had probably treated himself with that special healing paste he and Fred used when they tested their joke products on themselves because she didn't see any bruising on his face. Shame. "You probably deserved it."

George nodded. "That I did."

"Why? What did you do?"

"We don't need to get into the details. All you need to know is that I confirmed my suspicion. He's in love with you."

"He's not. Just because you wound him up somehow and he punched you, doesn't mean —"

"Merlin's beard, Hermione," George said with a hint of exasperation. "You're blind, the both of you. It's painfully obvious to anyone paying enough attention that the two of you are dying to be with each other. Why are you so unwilling to believe it? Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid!"

"Then why are you stubbornly refusing to see what was made so clear last night?"

"He's not in love with me. He didn't show the slightest bit of interest in me last night. He hardly even _looked_ at me."

"He couldn't look at you because he's your teacher and he wanted you too much. He wanted to be the one dancing with you, he wanted to be the one kissing you, but he couldn't and he hated me for being able to. He didn't want me anywhere near you. Why else do you think he followed us out of the Great Hall and started checking classrooms?"

Hermione agreed that it was unlike Remus to go out of his way like that to catch students breaking rules. If anything, he usually cut students too much slack, unless they were being too obnoxious or doing something too dangerous. Why had he decided to go checking classrooms precisely after she and George had left him and departed from the Great Hall?

"He was jealous," George told her. "You _had_ to have seen that when he came barging into the classroom to break us up. It was written all over his face."

She was about to deny this automatically, out of stubbornness more than anything, but then she remembered Remus's expression, the initial look on his face when he'd caught them in the classroom: hurt and a bit angry and. . . .

"He. . . he _was_ jealous," she said incredulously. She'd been so embarrassed to be caught with George like that and she had dwelled so much on Remus being disappointed in her because of her conduct that she hadn't even considered his disappointment might have actually been, as George believed, because _he_ wasn't the one kissing her. Could it really be true?

George smiled at her look of dawning realization and astonishment. "He was jealous, Hermione, and that can only be because he has feelings for you."

She felt a flutter of excitement in her belly at the thought. If that were true. . . .

"So, now that you're no longer in denial," George said, "what are you going to do about it?"

What _was_ she going to do now? "I. . . I don't know. . . ."

If she put herself out there and confessed her feelings for him, she'd be crossing a line that she could never uncross. Everything would be different between them from then on. And she had no idea how Remus would react, even if he did have feelings for her. What if —

"Stop!" George exclaimed, making her jump. He hopped down from the desk to grab her by the shoulders. "Stop what you are doing right now!"

"I'm not doing anything!" she said defensively. "I was just thinking —"

"Exactly! Unfortunately, that's something you and Remus have in common: the both of you think way too much. It keeps you from taking action, from doing what you truly want to do and being happy. One of you has got to break that pattern and get out of your head, and I think it should be you, Hermione. Stop overthinking everything and just go for it already!"

"Go for it?"

"Yes! If you want to be with Remus, make it happen. Stop waiting around for him and make the first move. Here," he said, taking from his pocket the Marauder's Map he hadn't been able to return to her last night and shoving it in her hands. "Go find him right now before you can talk yourself out of it."

"I'd have to talk myself _in_ to it first."

"I thought I just did that for you. Come on, Hermione. It's Valentine's Day, the perfect day for romance and proclamations of love."

At his insistence she searched the map, but, "He's not here." She felt a surprising bit of disappointment mingled with her relief. "He wasn't at breakfast either." Where could he be? She hoped he wasn't with Vivienne or some other woman.

"Then keep an eye on the map and go see him when he comes back," George said. "Promise me, Hermione, that you'll go see him. What have you got to lose?" Sensing her misgivings, he added, "Remember: fortune favors the brave. And you are a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

She hated to admit that she hadn't been living up to her Gryffindor status. She hadn't been very brave when it came to Remus. And George was right that if she kept doing what she'd been doing and waiting around for Remus, she might be waiting forever and nothing might ever happen.

"Okay," she said. "I'll go see him."

"Swear it."

"I will. I promise."

Even in that moment a part of her regretted this promise to George, but Hermione knew he wouldn't let her take it back.

After he left and as the day wore on, her regret grew and her nerves intensified. How could she have promised to do such a thing? How could she profess her love to her professor? What if George was wrong about how Remus felt? What if —

Well, he was certainly right that she thought too much. But how could she help it? She could hardly function the rest of the day, dreading and anticipating the moment when Remus would return to the castle. And late that evening, when she saw on the Marauder's Map that his dot had finally reappeared, she felt a jolt of panic and wished Ginny was there with her. She could have used some encouragement and advice from her bolder and more experienced friend, but the younger witch had sneaked out of the castle earlier to see Harry for their Valentine's Day date and had yet to return.

Hermione was alone with only her Gryffindor courage and she became very aware of her pumping heart. It was fast and furious and she thought it might fail her as she made good on her promise to George and headed toward her Defense professor's office.

* * *

Back in his quarters at Hogwarts, Remus wished he hadn't thrown away the chocolate Vivienne had sent him. He could have really used some now to help his mood, which had turned bleak after what he'd seen at St. Mungo's. Hugh was contaminated now and forever tainted, like Rosalind was tainted by the blood on her hands, like Remus himself, through association, felt tainted.

He was about to take a shower to try to wash away the feeling of being unclean, though he knew it was useless (the contamination was pumping through his veins), when he heard a knock. He passed through the entrance to his quarters and back out to his office, wondering who would be calling at this late hour.

"Hermione," he said in surprise when he opened the door.

"Hi Remus." She flashed him a nervous smile but he had difficulty returning it. He was torn by her unexpected appearance. She was the person whose comforting company he most longed for this grim evening, but also the last person he wanted see after what he'd just witnessed at St. Mungo's.

"What brings you here so late?" he asked her. "Everything all right?"

"Yes, I — I just wanted to see you. May I come in?"

He hesitated as he remembered the last time she'd been in his office, the night he'd lost control and forced her into an embrace. But he couldn't just leave her standing in the corridor. He stepped back to let her in.

After he'd closed the door behind her he paused for a moment, wondering if it would have been better, more proper, to leave the door open since he was speaking alone with a female student after hours. To reopen it now, though, would only draw her attention to his concern for propriety.

Deciding to leave it shut, he tore his gaze away from the door and back to Hermione. "What did you want to see me about?"

The nervousness he'd sensed from her before turned into a different kind of worry as she surveyed him under the better light inside his office. "Are you okay, Remus?"

"I'm fine," he replied as casually as he could. Then to avoid her probing gaze he said, "You can take a seat if you like," and started toward his desk, but she held him back. A thrill traveled up his arm at the unexpected contact.

"You're pale — what happened, Remus?"

"It's nothing," he said, stepping back from her touch.

"It's not nothing. What's wrong?"

Remus hesitated, but the concern in her eyes wore him down. "Did you read the _Daily Prophet_ today?" She shook her head. "There was an accident," he told her. "A friend of mine, Hugh Hawthorne, was involved."

A look of vague recognition crossed her face. "Hugh. . . Is he the man I met at the grand opening of Fred and George's joke shop?" Remus nodded. He'd forgotten they'd met once. "What happened to him?"

"He. . . he was bitten by a werewolf last night. He's fine," he added quickly to preempt her worry. "Or he will be anyway. I was at St. Mungo's today to see him. He looked. . ." An image popped into his mind of a green and sickly-looking Hugh wrapped in bandages, his wounds hidden from sight, but he knew his face and chest must have been a bloody mess when he'd first arrived at the hospital. "He wasn't in good shape."

"But the full moon isn't for another two weeks, so he won't be a werewolf, will he? He'll just be like Bill Weasley."

"Yes. Perhaps a bit more scarred."

"I'm so sorry, Remus. I hope he gets better soon."

"He'll be okay. It was lucky Rosalind — his girlfriend — took him to the hospital as promptly as she did or it might have been a different story. He might have lost too much blood."

"How is she, Rosalind? Was she there with Hugh when he was attacked?"

"Yes. She. . ." Remus swallowed. "She was the werewolf who attacked him."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "But — but why would she —?"

"I don't think it was intentional. These types of attacks that happen when a werewolf hasn't transformed are very rare, and I don't believe they're usually done out of malice. It's just that sometimes, even without the full moon, a werewolf can experience certain wolfish impulses that can be difficult to keep in check. It usually happens when their emotions are running high. Hugh and Rosalind were having an argument when she. . . ."

"Lost control," Hermione finished for him, her brow furrowing slightly. Remus wondered if she was thinking about the time _he'd_ lost control, when the wolfish impulses triggered by their contact and her scent had taken over him and he'd felt the urge to bite her.

"When she realized what she'd done," he went on heavily, shaking that memory from his mind, "she took him to St. Mungo's right away to get treated. The Healers said she was in tears, terrified and panicked, and she fled as soon as they received him, probably hoping no one would realize she was the werewolf who bit him. They already suspect it was her, but Hugh refuses to confirm it because he's afraid she'd be sent straight to Azkaban. He says he couldn't do that to her because it was just an accident."

"Well, it was just an accident, wasn't it? She didn't _mean_ to hurt him. She just lost control, like you said. She doesn't deserve Azkaban, she just needs help learning how to control her wolfish impulses."

"She might not have meant to hurt Hugh, but she's still responsible for her actions and what happened to him. She should have never put herself in that situation. Being with Hugh was reckless of her. She should have never gotten involved with him."

"Why not? Just because she's a werewolf?"

 _Just_ because she was a werewolf — as if that were a small matter. "Because she's dangerous," he told her. She frowned at him. Of course, she could never fully understand. "You've never met another werewolf, have you?"

"I have," she said quietly, her face paling slightly. "I met Fenrir Greyback last year, the night Harry, Ron, and I were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor."

Remus tensed, horrified by the thought of Hermione being anywhere near that savage werewolf. She'd never told him about this before. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. He didn't get the chance to do anything but threaten and leer," she revealed, and relief swept through him, though he still hated the thought of him frightening her. "I understand why he provokes such fear, but I also know most werewolves aren't like him."

"Most aren't like me either, Hermione. I was extremely fortunate to have parents who kept me after I was bitten and friends who accepted me despite what I was. I was able to hide my affliction and get along relatively well within normal wizarding society for most of my life. But the majority of werewolves aren't so lucky. Most of those who are bitten young grow up very differently than normal children. They live on the margins and are told by the rest of society that they're monsters, and it's hard not to believe you're a monster when you literally become one every full moon and experience the impulses we do."

"You're not a monster, Remus," she interjected, conviction strong in her voice and compassion bright in her eyes. And though he usually marveled at her sympathy for his kind, he couldn't help but disagree with her in this instance and think her a bit naïve.

"Well, these werewolves are taught by their fellows and elders to believe otherwise," he said. "They're encouraged to give in to their wolfish impulses, to give in to what they truly are without remorse or consideration for the society that shuns them. Many have to in order to survive. Everything is about survival and instincts for them."

"Did Rosalind grow up like that?"

He nodded. "I met her a couple of years ago when I was acting as spy for Dumbledore in the werewolf community she was living in. She was milder than the other werewolves, not as bitter against normal wizards, and she wasn't interested in joining Voldemort. She was curious about me, though, and how I managed to get along among normal wizards. She wanted to get away from the life she knew and try be normal."

He should have told her then that it was a losing battle.

"When I reconnected with Hugh," he continued, "I was happy to hear from him that she'd succeeded in getting away from her old life, but I was concerned that the two of them were involved. When you grow up like Rosalind did and are used to acting on your primal instincts, it's difficult to assimilate into normal society and learn to suppress those wolfish impulses. Rosalind clearly didn't have enough self-control yet. She was dangerous. It was reckless of her to get involved with Hugh."

"But she couldn't have known this was going to happen, could she? You said so yourself these types of attacks are rare. She probably thought she did have enough control over her impulses."

"She shouldn't have assumed she was safe. She should have been more cautious and thought more about Hugh's well-being. It was selfish of her to be with him. She should have stayed away."

"That's not fair," Hermione argued. "Hugh knew she was a werewolf, didn't he? And he wanted to be with her. He seems to love her. What happened was awful, and maybe you're right that Rosalind should have been more cautious, but I don't think it was wrong or selfish of her to want to be with him. She deserves to be happy with the man she loves. I mean, if _you_ loved someone and she didn't care you were a werewolf, wouldn't you —?"

"No, I'd stay away from her," Remus said at once, backing away from Hermione. She stared at him, stunned. "It could never go anywhere," he explained. "There's a reason werewolves don't usually marry. There's a reason why they don't get involved with normal wizards. We have little to offer but danger and the stigma attached to us, and there aren't many who'd want to be with a creature like us anyway."

"But if you did find someone —?"

"I could only bring her trouble, and I would never want that for the person I loved. The cost of being with a creature like me isn't worth it. I'd want better for her. I'd stay away."

He felt a deep ache in his heart as he gazed at Hermione and knew he would do just as he said. Because she deserved better — far better — than him.

"But what if she didn't want you to stay away?" she pressed. "What if she loved you and wanted to be with you?"

"That just isn't possible for me, Hermione."

"It _is_ possible —"

"Hermione, please," he said, putting his hand up to keep her from saying anything more on the subject. He couldn't bear having this conversation with her of all people. "This — this is a very personal matter, and forgive me but I'd rather not discuss it."

She bit her lip, bit back whatever she'd been about to argue, thankfully respecting his wishes.

Desperate to get away from the subject of love and werewolves, he asked her, "What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

She took a few moments to answer. "I'm afraid it — it doesn't really matter anymore."

Remus didn't understand what she meant by that, but he decided it was better not to question her about it. "In that case, you should probably get back to your dormitory, Hermione. It's past your curfew, and you're not supposed to be here."

But she stayed where she was, peering up at him with tears in her eyes. And not only could he see her sorrow, he could feel it in his heart, a deep ache in her chest like his.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you with all this," he said. "Please, put this out of your mind. Hugh will be fine —"

"And you?" she asked, her eyes searching his. "Werewolves have a right to love and pursue their happiness just like everybody else, Remus. It makes me sad you seem to believe otherwise and you don't realize how much a good man like you is really worth. . . how lucky any woman would be to have you."

The ache in his chest sharpened at the kindness of her words, and the tenderness in her gaze held him still, frozen in place, as she stepped closer — too close.

"You deserve love, Remus," she said, and his heart sped up, beating strongly against his chest as though it wanted to jump out and meet hers. "You are loved," she whispered.

He tensed as she softly kissed his cheek. But before he could move or fully panic, she pulled away again.

"Goodnight, Remus," she murmured and walked out of his office.

* * *

Hermione heaved a sigh as she closed her bedroom door, her heart heavy with her unexpressed feelings, her throat tight with all her unsaid words. She'd tried to be brave, but how was she supposed to tell Remus how she felt when he was so set on pushing her, or any other woman he might care for, away?

She picked up the magic rose from her nightstand. It was as gorgeous and as perfect as ever, and still alive — whatever that meant. She breathed in its scent as she laid down in bed and studied the mysterious flower that had comforted her countless times the last several months, and which represented to her her past with Remus and the possibility of happiness with him. It had also been a symbol of their love — or at least of _her_ love — love she wished he'd let himself feel now, love she wished she could give to him —

Hermione gasped as the rose suddenly began to glow, brilliant and warm. Then, right before her very eyes, it vanished. She blinked down at her empty hand in bewilderment and then sat up, glancing all around her in a panic. But the rose was nowhere in sight. It was gone.

* * *

Remus touched his cheek where Hermione had kissed him and brooded over her words.

" _You deserve love, Remus. You are loved."_

He shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have told her about Hugh and Rosalind or about werewolves. He'd always been drawn to Hermione's compassionate nature, but he didn't want her pity.

" _You're not a monster, Remus."_

He was a monster. That was the unpleasant truth. There was a beast dwelling within him and he'd been feeling its presence more often and more strongly than ever lately, and he knew it was somehow because of Hermione.

Only last night he'd felt the presence of the wolf when he saw her kissing George and he feared what could have occurred if its influence had overpowered him. What happened between Hugh and Rosalind reminded him that the wolf was always there within him, ready to strike if stirred, like when emotions were running too strong and self-control faltered in the face of animal instinct.

Rosalind had lost control and reacted violently, accidentally hurting someone she cared about. And if the conditions were right in a horribly wrong way, Remus knew there was always a chance he could do the same, even with all his self-discipline and restraint.

The _Daily Prophet_ had noted this, too. He was briefly mentioned at the end of the article he'd read that morning, the writer calling into question McGonagall's decision to appoint a known werewolf as a Hogwarts professor. Remus was sure he'd begin receiving outraged letters from parents again like he had at the start of the school year. And those parents had a right to be concerned. What happened with Rosalind and Hugh reminded him of the cruel reality of his nature.

When Remus wearily retired to his bedroom, he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't immediately notice the red rose on his bedside table. When he did catch sight of it, he froze, momentarily startled by its presence and struck by its vivid color and beauty. Where had that come from? Was it another Valentine's Day gift? There was no card — who could have sent it to him?

He picked up the rose and felt a thrill travel through him at the contact, a light tingling in his fingers, as if the flower was alive and charged, teeming with energy. He also noticed it didn't smell like a normal rose. It had a different scent, an intensely alluring scent he recognized at once — Hermione's scent.

Remus examined the flower curiously, wondering how it could possibly smell like her. Was it fake, some sort of product? Did it have some type of entrancing spell placed upon it that, similar to the effect of love potion, made it smell like whatever attracted him? That seemed like something Vivienne might have done to entrap him. But as he carefully turned the flower around in his fingers, he detected no curses or enchantments had been placed upon it. On the contrary, he sensed a purity about the rose.

He sniffed it again before setting it down, not sure whether he should be wary of it or not but too tired at the moment to care. Its scent stayed with him as he laid down, making him feel slightly dazed.

Sleep swiftly pulled him under and Remus fell straight into wild dreams — he was with Hermione on the highest tower of the castle and kissing her under the stars; then her lips tasted of chocolate and they were on a picnic blanket in the middle of the snow; then she was in his dormitory and they were entwined in a passionate embrace — wild dreams that kept him tossing and turning through the night, but which faded from memory by the time he began to stir.

Still half-asleep he reached for the rose, reached for _her_ , craving her scent, which alternately calmed and comforted him and drove him wild, made him lose control — like Rosalind had lost control. Images flashed through his mind of a bloodied Hugh and Hermione's fearful eyes, and Remus snapped wide awake, abruptly pulling his hand back from the vibrant rose — he was too tainted to touch something so pure.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter is a little late for Valentine's Day, but oh well. It wasn't a very happy one anyway. Sadly, Hermione and Remus aren't _quite_ there yet and are still struggling on their journey to let themselves be silently drawn.

As always, thanks for reading and thank you for your lovely reviews. Also, my apologies for the slow updates lately. Next chapter should be up more quickly.


	35. Chapter 35

The spell Remus fired missed Hermione by an inch. She wasn't quick enough to dodge his next shot, though, and her legs began to move uncontrollably in a frantic quick step. Luckily, her own spell landed its mark as well. While Remus doubled up, howling with laughter, she had just enough time to lift the Dancing Feet Spell he'd placed on her. She blocked the next jinx he cast as he straightened up, straight-faced once more, and then she shouted, "Obscuro!"

A blindfold appeared over his eyes. Still, he blasted spells her way with startling accuracy considering he couldn't see. She ducked and dodged and deflected them, all the while trying to get in her own shot, until she felt her legs snap together and go rigid — he'd hit her with a Leg-Locker Curse.

He tore off his blindfold as she nearly toppled over. But before he could Disarm her, she sent a large cushion hurtling his way. As he threw himself aside to avoid it, Hermione took her chance.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, and his wand flew out of his hand.

As she caught it victoriously, cheers erupted from the students in Defense Club. Everyone congratulated her on her big win. This was the first time she'd ever beaten Remus in one of these duels they did at the repeated requests of her classmates.

Remus also congratulated her.

"The student has surpassed the teacher," he said with a smile as they left the Room of Requirement together after the Defense Club meeting was over.

Hermione, however, didn't feel her victory was a true one. "You were going easy on me."

"I wasn't," he told her as they started along the corridor. "You won fair and square, Hermione."

"I didn't. Not really." She had seen Remus duel before, in real battles during the war and for fun and practice with Sirius and Tonks during the summer she'd spent at Grimmauld Place before fifth year. She knew the way Remus dueled with her was different from the way he did with everybody else, even though she had proven herself to be a skilled duelist. "You're still holding back."

He frowned slightly at the accusation in her tone. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. Or you overestimate my abilities. I wasn't holding back."

Hermione knew, despite what he said, he had been holding back. He always held back. Not just in these duels with her, but in everything. She wondered if he was even aware he did so. She knew this habit of his probably stemmed from his struggles with his lycanthropy and thought it might have become so much a part of his nature he didn't even realize he did it anymore. She also knew, however, that she probably shouldn't be too critical of him for this because hadn't she been holding back just as much as he'd been this year?

"How's Hugh?" she asked, Remus's pallor reminding her that the full moon was only a few days away.

"He's better. He's been experiencing a few mild symptoms, but he's taking everything in stride. He says he's always liked his meat rare anyway."

"And Rosalind?"

"Hugh hasn't heard from her since she left him at St. Mungo's, but he suspects she may have gone back to where she used to live. He plans on going to look for her."

"You think it's foolish of him to want to work things out with her, don't you?" Remus hesitated to respond, which was answer enough for Hermione. "I'm glad he's going to look for her. I think that after what happened Rosalind will be more careful and learn to better control her wolfish impulses, and I'm glad Hugh's not letting that incident or anything else get in the way of him being happy with her. He's willing to take a chance on them. Sometimes you have to let go of your fears and take a risk in order to be happy. You told me that once, remember?"

"Yes. When we were discussing your boy trouble," he said rather stiffly. After a pause, he added, "I'm glad to see you've worked things out with George."

"Are you?" she asked, watching him closely.

"Of course," he replied, his expression hard to read. "You seem happy with him."

"I'm not. With him, I mean. George and I — we're not together. We're only friends. He wasn't the person I was talking about that day."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "So there's another guy?"

"Yes," she said, slowing her steps as her pulse began to quicken. Remus looked like he was about to question her, but instead he turned away, looking straight ahead of them as they walked, a faint crease between his brows. Hermione continued to contemplate him, remembering the advice he had given her. "You told me I should tell him how I feel because he might still have feelings for me too, but . . . I've been afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore, Remus." She stopped him in the middle of the corridor on impulse, tired of holding back the words that had been on the tip of her tongue since Valentine's Day. Looking him straight in the eye, she said, "The person I was talking about that day. . . . I was talking about —"

"Ah, Remus, you're here."

 _You've got to be kidding me,_ Hermione thought to herself as she stepped away from Remus at the sound of Professor Avila's voice.

The Transfiguration teacher was standing in the doorway to her office just down the corridor. The smile she gave Remus twisted into a scowl of disapproval when her gaze shifted to Hermione, a special scowl she reserved just for her. Dealing with Professor Avila's antagonism toward her this year had given Hermione a better understanding of how Harry must have felt dealing with Snape all those years.

"Miss Granger — shouldn't you be in your dormitory? Oh, I forgot, you think yourself above the rules."

"I was just patrolling the corridors, Professor," Hermione explained. "It's one of my duties as Head Girl."

"It's past curfew. No student, not even the Head Girl, is allowed to wander the castle at this hour," Professor Avila replied.

"Hermione was helping me with Defense Club, Olivia," Remus cut in before Hermione could retort. "Our meeting this evening ran a little late, so it's my fault she's out past her curfew. She was just finishing up her patrol and getting to her dormitory."

"Well, I suggest you hurry along, Miss Granger," Professor Avila said dismissively before turning her full attention to Remus. "Thank you for coming, Remus. I don't know what I'd do without your help."

Remus looked confused for a moment, then said, "Oh, yes, the boggart you were telling me about earlier. I suppose I'll check it out now."

"If you don't mind."

"Professor. . ." Hermione started, turning toward Remus.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I promised Professor Avila I'd help with the boggart. We can talk tomorrow."

Just when she thought she couldn't dislike Professor Avila any more, Hermione watched as Remus disappeared with her into her office. He seemed eager to leave her behind, relieved to escape the conversation they'd been having before the Transfiguration teacher had interrupted them. He was running away from her.

His teenage self had run away from her too, in the past when their friendship had grown warmer and something more had begun to spark between them. Running away seemed to be as much of a habit of his as holding back.

As she walked into her bedroom a few minutes later, Hermione automatically glanced at her nightstand and felt a pang in her chest at the rose's gaping absence. What had happened to it? Why had it disappeared? Had the magic died at last and the rose vanished forever from existence? She couldn't bear the thought.

At least she still had the necklace Remus had given her. As she traced the words engraved on the pendant, she reminded herself that though the younger Remus had run away from her at first, he'd eventually given in to his feelings. Would the older Remus do the same? How could she get him to stop running, at least long enough for her to tell him how she felt?

* * *

Remus didn't stay long with Professor Avila after he'd banished the boggart that had taken up residence in the old filing cabinet in her office. She was unusually chatty this evening, but he couldn't keep up with her conversation. All he could think about was what Hermione had been about to tell him before she'd been interrupted.

As he made his way to his quarters, he wondered who Hermione had been referring to when they'd talked about her boy troubles if not George. Could it have been Viktor Krum as he'd initially believed? But somehow he felt certain she hadn't been about to say Krum. . . .

In his bedroom Remus's gaze was drawn to the rose on his bedside table. It was exactly where he'd left it on Valentine's Day. Although it seemed to call to him every time he passed it and every night as he lay in bed, attempting to entice him with its scent, he hadn't touched it since. Tonight, however, his curiosity got the better of him.

He immediately felt its energy, its magic, tickle his fingers when he picked it up. Incredibly, it looked just as fresh as the first night he'd had it, and he wondered exactly what sort of enchantment had been placed upon it and why it smelled like Hermione. He was appreciative of that peculiarity as much as he was cautious. Breathing in her scent gave him the feeling of being close to her without actually being anywhere near her — this was as close as he'd allow himself to get.

He felt guilty even now, indulging in her scent. But he didn't have much choice, really. It affected him differently tonight, more strongly than before. Because of the approaching full moon and his heightened senses, it overwhelmed him, making him feel lightheaded, dazed. His mind became hazy and his body grew heavy, and without the energy to even undress he climbed into bed.

As he settled under the covers a subtle, tingling warmth flowed through him, starting from his fingertips where he was touching the rose and spreading throughout his entire body, soothing him, instilling him with a sense of peace. He was spiraling down toward a place of serenity, drifting off to somewhere between wake and sleep and dreams, when suddenly he was blinded by a flash of light.

He turned away from the glare of the brilliant glow, rolling over in bed, his arm falling across a pillow — only it wasn't really a pillow. He realized this when he hugged it to him and it gasped.

The sound snapped him back to his senses. He was wide awake in an instant, his eyes flying open to darkness and the feel of a womanly figure beside him. For a moment he froze, as did the girl in his arms, the girl with the dangerously tempting scent. . . .

They reacted at the same time: she scrambled away from him, and, sheer panic replacing his serenity from moments before, Remus crashed to the floor in his haste to get away from her. Light flooded the room as he jumped back up to his feet, and his eyes went wide as they met with Hermione's.

"Remus?" She lowered the wand she had pointed at him and blinked in bemusement, looking as utterly shocked by his presence as he was of hers.

"Hermione — what are you doing in — in —" But as he glanced around he realized this unfamiliar space wasn't his bedroom — it was hers. And he had just been in her bed, spooning with her. "Merlin's beard. . . ."

How had this happened? Hadn't he just been in his bedroom? How in Merlin's name had he gotten here? It was physically impossible for him to be in this room at all. All the girls' dormitories were protected by impenetrable magical wards meant to prevent males from entering. He knew this not only because he'd read so in _Hogwarts, A History_ but because James and Sirius had tried everything to sneak into the Gryffindor girls' dormitory for a prank their fifth year. How could he have possibly entered Hermione's dormitory? Last he checked he was still male.

Hermione also looked very aware of that fact as she tugged the hem of her oversized jumper further down her thighs.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, Hermione. I — I don't know how I got in here." Fighting against his every male and wolfish instinct, he backed away from her toward the door, trying his hardest to keep his gaze from slipping down to her bare legs. His hand found the doorknob. "Forgive me — I'll go." But the door wouldn't open. He yanked it again, but it wouldn't budge. He pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered, "Alohomora!" Still, the door remained shut. "What — what's wrong with the door?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, tentatively stepping around the bed toward him. "It was working fine earlier."

The next spell Remus tried was just as ineffective as the first, so he reached for the doorknob again only to find he couldn't touch it anymore. An invisible barrier now blocked his exit.

He stared at the door in bewilderment. What in Merlin's name was going on? Magic was supposed to keep him out of this room, but it seemed like a different sort of magic was now locking him in. This was not good. The full moon was only four days away and he was trapped in this room with the only person who'd ever made him lose control. . . .

He shouldn't think about that. Panicking would do no good. Everything would be fine so long as they didn't touch again and he figured out a way to get out of here.

"Remus — did you drop this?"

He turned to see Hermione picking his rose off the floor, but as she'd bent down something silver had fallen out from where it'd been tucked beneath her sweater, completely diverting his attention.

"Your necklace," he said, feeling a startling jolt of recognition at the sight of the heart pendant. Her hand quickly shot up to cover it. "It's just like. . . ." But how could that be possible? "Hermione, may I see it?"

She hesitated before reaching behind her neck to unclasp it. He took the hauntingly familiar piece of jewelry from her, handling it delicately.

"This — this belonged to my mother," he said in amazement. "I'm certain it's hers. It's the same, the chain, the pendant . . . the inscription. . ." He lightly traced the words that had been etched upon the heart. "My father made this for her. It's the necklace I told you about on Christmas Eve."

The words on the pendant had been taken from one of his mother's favorite quotes by the poet Rumi: _Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray_. His mother had admired that philosophy and taken the words to heart when it came to romance, allowing herself to be silently drawn to his father, despite him being a wizard and belonging to a world much different than the Muggle one she'd known.

Remus had always liked the quote as well. When his mother passed away, his father had let him have the necklace because it held sentiments too dear and too difficult for him to bear if he were to have kept it for himself. In his younger, more naïve days Remus had thought to give the necklace to the woman he'd someday fall in love with, the woman he'd want to marry, in the hope that she'd be able to look past his lycanthropy and love him in return.

How had the necklace come to be in Hermione's possession?

He looked up at her questioningly. "Where did you get this?"

"It — it was a gift."

"From whom?"

Who could have had it all these years it had been lost to him? He'd never forgiven himself for misplacing it. He'd never understood how it could have happened. He was always so careful with his things, especially with his mother's belongings.

But Hermione countered his question with one of her own, returning his attention to the rose in her hands. "Did you get this on Valentine's Day?"

"I did."

"What does it smell like to you?"

The question shook him. "Like a rose," he lied. "Why?"

"Has anything strange happened? Has the rose glowed or something?"

He found that his memory was a bit fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered a flash of light. "Yes. I was in my room before I was here, and I — I felt strange. I got into bed, and then the rose. . . . How did you know it glowed?"

"The rose is magic. I've seen it glow before. This rose — it used to be mine. But I think I sent it to you that night."

"The rose was from you?" he said in astonishment.

"I didn't mean to send it to you, but I. . . ." She stared down at the flower, her brow furrowed in thought. Speaking more to herself than to him, she said, "I was thinking of you, and I wanted you to . . . I wanted to give you . . . and it just disappeared, right out of my hand. And it — it went to you."

She raised her pensive gaze back to his.

"The rose is magic," he repeated, which was about all he understood from what she'd just said. "So it's what sent me here. It's what's keeping the door locked. But why . . . ?"

"I think it wants us to talk," she said slowly. "I — I need to tell you something."

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked when she hesitated. "Does this have anything to do with this necklace? Or is it about the rose?"

"Both. What the rose did, bringing you here . . . something like that has happened to me as well."

"The rose magically transported you somewhere?"

"Yes." She paused. "Back in time."

"You time traveled?" he said incredulously.

She nodded. "The rose sent me back to 1977."

"Merlin's beard . . . when did this happen?" he asked, completely staggered.

"Last summer."

So many questions flooded his mind he didn't know which to ask first. He lowered his gaze to the rose in her hands and eyed it skeptically. "But the rose couldn't have. . . . That kind of magic, the power of time travel, can't be bestowed upon flowers."

"This rose is special. How else do you explain how you came into my dorm when there are spells meant to keep boys out?"

He couldn't. "Where did you get the rose, Hermione?"

"From the garden at the Burrow." Rather shyly, she added, "It's the same rose you gave me on Harry's birthday. Do you remember?"

"I do," he said quietly. He remembered that moment clearly, how she'd caught him as he was leaving the Burrow and had tried to convince him to teach again at Hogwarts this year, how he'd picked a pretty flower for the pretty girl to congratulate her on being named Head Girl. Feeling uncomfortable at the memory for reasons he didn't want to explore at the moment, he broke their eye contact and dropped his gaze to the rose. "But that can't be the same one. That was months ago. This rose looks freshly picked."

"Its magic keeps it looking that way. Its magic also sent me to the past. The night you gave it to me the rose transported me to Hogwarts twenty years ago."

"If you were sent back to 1977 . . . that's when I was a student."

"I know. I sort of met you — the seventeen-year-old you."

"Merlin's beard," he said, his mind reeling. He stared at Hermione, completely stunned by the thought of her meeting his younger self.

"I was stuck there in the past for nearly three months," she revealed. "While Dumbledore was figuring out a way to return me to my proper time, I acted as a transfer student. I became friends with Lily Evans and some of the other Gryffindors, and I also became friends with you. You gave me that necklace for Christmas."

" _I_ gave this to you?"

She nodded, but he was finding all this difficult to digest.

"Hermione . . . that — that can't be. We didn't meet until your third year. I would have remembered if I'd met you before. I never knew of a Hermione Granger while I was a student."

"I told you my name was Jean Wilkins."

Remus was surprised that the name rang a bell. From somewhere deep in the wells of his mind a memory surfaced. It was shortly after the Christmas holiday in his seventh year at Hogwarts and a classmate of his named Darren asked him about a girl named Jean, if she'd transferred to a different school. Remus had asked him who Jean was. Darren had replied, "Jean Wilkins. You know, that girl you're always with," and Remus had regarded him suspiciously, unsure whether he was pulling his leg or not.

Could Darren have been referring to Hermione? The thought was mind-boggling.

"And also," Hermione continued, "Dumbledore placed a Memory Charm on you, and Lily and Sirius and McGongagall, and on everybody else I knew in this time. None of you were allowed to remember me because it might have altered the future I knew, the present we know now."

If this was true, if Hermione had truly traveled back in time and his memories of her had been erased . . . what sort of memories had been taken from him? It was unnerving to learn that three months' worth of his life experience had been wiped from his mind, especially when that experience was centered on Hermione.

Remus searched her face without quite knowing what he was looking for. She peered back at him nervously, which heightened his unease.

Hermione had said they'd been friends, but had his younger self developed feelings for her as well? He'd apparently given her his mother's necklace which strongly indicated that he had. Anxiety gripped him. What exactly had happened between them?

The inability to remember, the obliviousness and uncertainty, unsettled Remus. He needed to know what happened.

"Hermione, can you reverse the spell Dumbledore placed on me? Can you return my memories?"

* * *

Hermione's stomach knotted at his request.

"I can't," she said. "That's extremely advanced and delicate magic, way beyond my ability."

"It isn't. You returned your parents' memories of you last summer, you can do the same to me. Please, Hermione. I trust you."

She wished he hadn't said that. The boggart-Remus had told her she'd violated his trust. . . .

"That was different. I only modified my parents' memories," she explained. "I cast a charm on them so that they would believe they were different people and didn't have a daughter, a charm that could be reversed. But Dumbledore Obliviated your memory, and it's impossible to return memories that have been Obliviated, except under extreme mental duress like torture."

"Right," Remus said in disappointment. "I knew that. I — I just wish I could remember."

Hermione bit her lip as she watched him fidget with the necklace he'd given her, frustration plain on his features. Should she just tell him what he couldn't remember? Should she tell him everything that had happened between them? How much should she reveal? How would he react if she told him —

"It's glowing again," Remus said sharply.

Hermione glanced down to see the rose sparking and glimmering in her hands. It felt pleasantly warm against her fingers as the glow grew stronger.

"Let me see, Hermione," Remus said, holding his hand out for the rose. "It might be dangerous."

She shook her head. "It's not dangerous."

She was absolutely certain of this. The rose had only ever tried to help her. Was it trying to help her again now? But she thought she'd ruined its plan by leaving the past to return to her present. Perhaps, though, it had a different plan. Why else would it have brought Remus here and done all that it had tonight? Maybe it had just been waiting for the right time or the right circumstances to reveal more of its magic. But why was it glowing? What was it going to do now?

It had recently granted her wish to give Remus her love by presenting itself, the symbol of her love, to him. And Remus had just wished he could remember what had happened between them in the past. . . .

Instinctively, Hermione knew now what it intended. "I think it — it wants to return your memories."

The rose's glow surged brighter as though confirming what she'd just said, and Remus looked warily between her and the flower. Then, slowly, he extended his hand again.

Hermione hesitated, her heart pounding anxiously. At the forefront of her mind was the boggart-Remus's reaction to the memories and she was terrified of handing the rose over to the real Remus. This sort of fear was comparable to the fear she'd experienced when facing Voldemort and the Death Eaters, when she'd been at the mercy of a deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Her life had been in peril then; now her heart was at risk.

She felt the cowardly urge to hide it, to refuse him the rose. But she knew she couldn't deny him his memories, especially not now that he knew so much. And if this was the rose's plan . . . shouldn't she trust the rose? Maybe it would be good for Remus to remember. The truth would finally be out and she wouldn't feel guilty about hiding anything from him anymore. And perhaps by remembering what had happened between them in the past he'd realize it didn't matter that he was a werewolf. They could still be together and be happy.

Remembering, however, the way her actions in the past had upset the boggart-Remus, she blurted, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Remus."

He frowned slightly but gave a small nod, his outstretched hand still waiting for the rose.

Hermione took a deep breath. Then, with all the Gryffindor courage she had, she handed the rose to Remus.


	36. Chapter 36

"Hey, Moony — you still awake?" James whispered into the darkness of the boys' dormitory. " _Moony!_ "

Remus groaned when James shook him. Well, he was awake now. "What do you want?"

His bed sank beside him with James's weight. "Why did Lily tell me to ask her out again on Monday? Why didn't she just say no and call me an arrogant toerag like she always does? Do you think she's just toying with me or what?"

Remus sat up, rubbing his eyes. He should've known this would be about Lily, the only girl who could rattle his normally unshakably confident friend. "You heard what Sirius said —"

"I want to know what you think. You talk to Lily more than Sirius and I do. She's never had a problem with you. She likes you."

"She doesn't talk to me about you, Prongs. But I think the only reason she would have told you to ask her out again is because she wants to say yes."

"If she does say yes, I'll be the happiest guy in the entire wizarding world," James uttered in a tone Remus had only heard him use when speaking about Lily under the cover of darkness. With more of his usual self-confidence, he added, "I plan on marrying her, you know. And we're going to have enough children to make our own Quidditch team. You'll be godfather to one of them of course."

"Promise me you won't open with those plans when you talk to her on Monday," Remus said in amusement. "You might scare her away."

James laughed. "I won't. It's taken me six years to get a maybe out of her. I won't screw this up now."

James went back to his bed and Remus lay against his own pillow, gripped with a sudden melancholy. He couldn't quite explain it. He was happy for James. James loved Lily and he was glad that his friend was finally getting his chance with her. Why, then, did he also feel so gloomy?

And then the reason struck him: he would never have the chance like James to be the "happiest guy in the entire wizarding world."

He'd always known he'd never have a normal life like his friends — he could never marry and have a family of his own because of what he was — yet it was only now that the reality of it all truly dawned on him: he would never know love. He was a werewolf; therefore, he was destined for loneliness while his friends were free to find love and happiness.

He turned over in bed, his heart heavy. He'd thought he'd already accepted his fate, but he couldn't help but let the unfairness of it all overwhelm him this moment. He didn't like to complain about his furry little problem or pity himself, but sometimes a terrible bitterness surged inside him. He felt it now and hated that he was a werewolf. He despised having to worry about the full moon and constantly being on guard lest his secret be revealed. He longed for the life he would have had if he'd never been bitten. He would have been normal like his friends, and he could have someday been a good husband and father. . . .

After a night full of fanciful thoughts, then dreams about the type of girl he would have liked to marry, a scent, one he'd never come across before yet was somehow familiar to him, and intensely alluring, stirred Remus from sleep late the next morning. He didn't fully register the warm body next to his, however, until his eyes slowly fluttered open to plaited brown hair and the figure of a girl in his embrace —

He started, jerking his arm away from the girl, who twisted around to face him, her eyes going wide when they met his. They both cried out in shock. Then he was crashing to the floor, the girl shrieking as he pulled the covers down with him.

He sprang up to his feet and blinked rapidly at the sight of the stranger standing on the other side of his bed. She glanced around his dormitory, looking as confused as he was alarmed.

"Who are you?" he asked warily. "W-what are you doing in the boy's dormitory?"

"Who are _you_?" she countered, her voice trembling slightly. "Why am I here?"

She seemed as bewildered as he was. He glanced around the room, wishing one of his friends were here and not yet down at breakfast, but he was alone with this girl and had no explanation for how this had happened.

She looked scared and pale, and he wanted to help her, but before he could fully wrap his head around her being there she bolted from the room. She was gone in a blink, and, his brain still slow from sleep, Remus wondered if perhaps she'd just been a dream. . . . It _had_ to have been a dream. That was too bizarre to be real.

On his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, though, he contemplated whether he should mention to his friends what had happened, in case the girl hadn't been a figment of his imagination and they'd noticed something that could explain how he'd awakened with her. He decided not to tell them, however, because he knew they'd tease him to no end for dreaming such a thing. Still, he kept an eye out for that girl that day, but he didn't catch another glimpse of her.

He was entirely convinced that she really had been a dream when he walked into Professor McGonagall's office the next morning, so his heart nearly stopped when he saw her inside.

"Guilty conscience, Mr. Lupin?" McGonagall said, heightening his apprehension. Had the girl told her what had happened the previous morning? How would he explain himself to McGonagall? But then she told him, "You are not in trouble this time."

He was relieved, but he could hardly relax. He hadn't been dreaming after all. The girl was real.

McGonagall introduced her as Jean Wilkins, a new transfer student, and assigned him to be her study partner. He had no choice but to agree.

He and Jean lingered awkwardly outside McGonagall's office a few minutes later.

"I suppose we should, um, talk about . . . you know . . . what happened yesterday," Jean said.

"What exactly _did_ happen?" he asked uneasily.

"I'm not entirely sure," she replied, and then told them there must have been some mix up with the Portkey she was supposed to use to get to Hogwarts.

That explanation didn't make much sense to him, not least because she hadn't even had a Portkey when she'd appeared in his dormitory — she'd been asleep and empty-handed — but he sensed her confusion over the situation was sincere.

"I'm sorry I ran off like that without saying anything. I panicked. I was just startled to wake up like that, with you. . . ." Jean broke off, blushing hard.

" _I'm_ sorry," he said, his face heating up as well. "I was the one who was — I mean, I was asleep too. I didn't mean to. . . ."

More awkwardness ensued, but then Jean proposed they pretend that incident never happened and start over. He gratefully jumped at the suggestion.

She feigned seeing him for the first time, and, amused, Remus went along with her idea to playact a new first encounter, offering to show her to the Great Hall. She thanked him, flashing him a pretty smile, and with the awkwardness between them easing a different sort of nervousness began affecting him as he walked along the corridor with the girl he'd thought was a dream.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks Remus helped Jean get caught up in her classes, which proved to be a much easier task than he'd expected. Jean was smart. Really smart.

He found himself watching her sometimes when they studied together in the library, how focused and intense she was while she worked, the way her brow furrowed slightly and she chewed on her lip, her chocolate brown eyes so intent, speeding through the pages before her. But when she looked up from her books and her eyes met with his, they softened and warmed. He might have been too shy to talk to her, too intimidated not only by her cleverness but because she also happened to be very pretty, if not for her eyes. They revealed her kindness and made him feel like they'd known each other for years.

He was glad he and Jean were getting along well as friends and not just study partners. Unlike his other friends, Jean actually liked to study and read for fun like he did, and unlike anybody else he knew, she cared about issues such as the work rights of house-elves. He liked to listen to her speak passionately about the causes she cared about, but he also enjoyed it when she was less serious, like when she burst out laughing during their whispered conversations in the quiet library and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, her cheeks turning pink.

One mild October afternoon, Remus studied Jean curiously as they were lounging out on the school grounds with their friends. His senses were heightened from the approaching full moon, but he thought it peculiar how he could distinguish her scent so clearly and much more strongly than those of the other girls around him.

He remembered the first time he'd smelled it, in his dormitory when they'd first met, and how he'd thought Jean was a dream. It was strange. He'd been dreaming that night about the kind of girl he would've liked to marry if he'd never been bitten, and in the morning he'd awakened to find a girl in his arms even more beautiful than the one he'd imagined. . . .

The direction of his thoughts took him by surprise. He looked away from Jean in a hurry, his gaze landing on Sirius, who — he could tell by the smirk on his friend's face — had noticed him staring at her. He hoped he wouldn't read too much into that. It wasn't like he fancied Jean.

But Remus realized that wasn't exactly true a couple of days later when he became ill from his lycanthropy and checked into the Hospital Wing. He recognized that he was relieved to be away from Jean for a while, not because he didn't want to be around her, but because he liked being around her a little too much. Staying in the Hospital Wing gave him the chance to avoid her and the feelings he feared he was beginning to develop for her.

That is, until Jean showed up, laughing, in the arms of Sirius.

Fortunately, the two of them didn't stay long. Madam Pomfrey quickly healed Jean's ankle injury and Remus, who was looking peaky and feeling self-conscious under Jean's gaze, was grateful to see her leave, though he didn't particularly like that it was with Sirius.

He slumped back in his bed, troubled by the way he'd felt seeing Jean with Sirius and disheartened by the thought of her inevitably falling for his friend. She'd never notice him next to Sirius. And even if she did, it wasn't like he could date her anyway. Going out with a girl could only end in heartbreak because either he'd eventually feel too guilty keeping his lycanthropy a secret from her and they'd break up, or she'd find out what he was and never speak to him again.

And then fear struck him — what if his friendship with Jean ended in heartbreak as well? She'd just seen him in the Hospital Wing, exhibiting symptoms of lycanthropy in the days preceding the full moon — what if she figured out what he was? She was too clever not to figure it out.

Especially when his friends were careless enough to joke about it in front of her.

For the Halloween dance a few days after the full moon, Jean dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood. James and Sirius didn't know who that was, so a friend of theirs told them the tale.

Remus noticed that Sirius seemed to enjoy the story, and was aghast when he laughed at the end and clapped him on the back, telling Jean, "You'd better watch out for the big, bad wolf."

Hearing that fairy tale and seeing Jean dressed as Little Red made him hesitant to ask her to dance, but eventually Remus worked up the nerve. He was relieved when she said yes and felt a little thrill travel through him when he took her hand.

"Why are people giving us funny looks?" she asked as he led her to the dance floor.

He'd noticed as well. He told her it was probably because of the Dumbledore costume he was wearing. "It must look a bit scandalous for a professor to be dancing with a student. I suppose it doesn't help that I'm dressed up like an old man and you look very young. Maybe I should lose the wig."

By the time he'd disposed of his wig, however, the band had started a new song, a slow tune, and he sensed Jean's hesitance.

"Do you still want to dance?" he asked her. "I understand if you, er, want to wait for a better song."

"This song's just fine," she said, flashing him a smile.

Unfortunately, though, just as they began to sway to the music, Dumbledore abruptly put an end to the night's festivities.

After Remus walked Jean to her dorm, they lingered in the corridor outside for a while. She expressed her disappointment that they that hadn't actually gotten to dance and told him that he owed her one. He was excited at the thought, remembering the way a blush had crept into her cheeks when he'd put his arm around her waist earlier. He wondered if she felt what he felt whenever they touched — a strange thrill, like an energy of some kind sparking at their contact. It reminded him of something his father had once told him about knowing when something's been touched by magic by being able to sense its energy.

He sensed that same energy between him and Jean often over the next few weeks. He felt it when Sirius dared him to kiss her during a truth or dare game they played and, amid the catcalls and then disappointed groans from his friends, he pressed his lips to the back of Jean's hand. He felt it again when they were alone in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, their faces reflecting the light of the Patronuses they'd conjured.

"It looks like they like each other," Jean said as her otter and his wolf playfully chased each other around the room.

It was only when he noticed the color in her cheeks that he realized the implications of her statement, that if their Patronuses, which were extensions of themselves, liked each other, then that must mean they did too. He watched her otter nudge his wolf teasingly, almost flirtatiously, and the possibility that Jean might like him as more than just a friend simultaneously elated and terrified him.

But he knew that possibility was just wishful thinking because he suspected Jean actually fancied Sirius. Worse yet, Sirius seemed to fancy her as well. He flirted with her frequently, often making her blush, and Remus didn't know why he was surprised she'd fallen for his friend. It seemed most girls at Hogwarts had had a crush on him at some point or another.

But Jean was the only girl whose crush on his friend actually bothered him. So when the full moon arrived near the end of November, he sort of looked forward to his transformation for once. He knew it would release a lot of the tension he was feeling over Jean, and he wouldn't have to think about her in his werewolf state of mind.

Like they'd been doing since successfully becoming Animagi in their fifth year, James, Sirius, and Peter joined him in their animal forms that night, eager to roam the school grounds and Hogsmeade village in mischievous fun and adventure. Although Remus sometimes felt guilty about roaming about so freely as a werewolf, he knew that the presence of his friends made him less dangerous. His mind became less wolfish and more human in their company.

But this night was different. In his werewolf form, he caught a delicious and dangerously tempting scent in the air. He chased after it, losing his mind completely. . . .

The next thing he knew he was in the Shrieking Shack the following morning. Flashes of distorted images from the night, along with vague impressions of lust and fear and rage, came back to him. He shook them off, spent from the painful transformation and longing for a peaceful sleep.

A floorboard creaked before he could drift off. He opened his eyes and panic like he'd never known before jolted through him when he saw Jean.

"Jean, what are you —? You need to go! You shouldn't be here —"

"It's all right, Remus. It's —"

"No, Jean, you don't understand — I'm dangerous! You need to leave! I'm a — I'm —"

"I know, Remus," she said softly. "But it's morning now. It's okay."

His heart sank horribly — she knew _._

"You're hurt," she said, reaching out to him, but he flinched away, shrinking back against the wall. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

"Jean," Sirius called quietly from behind her. "We need to go upstairs. Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute. She can't know we're here."

Remus avoided her eyes, lowering his gaze to the floor to search for his clothes, and without another word Jean followed Sirius away from him, away for good.

She knew.

And he knew she'd never speak to him again.

He was absolutely certain in that moment his friendship with Jean was over, and he became even more certain of this when his friends reluctantly told him later how he'd chased her in his werewolf form and had almost bitten her. He was horrified. During the next couple of days he couldn't bring himself to face her and the rejection and reproach he knew he'd receive.

But she found him at the top of the Astronomy Tower one afternoon, and she only gently reproached him for not giving them the chance to talk about what had happened.

He apologized for putting her in danger and for deceiving her about what he truly was, and was surprised when she said, "I like who you are, Remus."

Bewildered and a bit troubled by her response, he tried to tell her that he was dangerous and explain to her exactly what he was: a werewolf, a creature to regard with fear, distrust, and repulsion.

"Do you want to know what you are to me?" she replied. "A good person, the best study partner a girl like me could ever hope for, a great guy . . . someone whose friendship I wouldn't want to lose."

He didn't know what to make of her attitude, couldn't fathom how she wasn't afraid or upset, but he suspected she was just trying to be kind. She insisted, though, saying, "Look, I don't care that you're a werewolf, all right? That makes no difference to me. I only care that you're you, that you're Remus. Nothing else matters."

He hardly dared to believe her. In the following days, however, he began to accept that maybe Jean truly didn't care that he was a werewolf. There was no fear or disgust or pity in her eyes when she spoke to him. She looked at him and treated him as she always had.

And then the attack happened.

He was walking along the corridor with Sirius, James, and Lily when they heard someone around the next corner harshly say, "I can't wait until filth like you are exterminated. But until then, some fun. . . . You won't be so _proud_ to be a Mudblood after this!"

Remus and the others hurried around the corner in time to see Jean being cursed to hang upside down in mid-air —

Fury like he'd never experienced before coursed through him and Remus raised his wand, blasting the three Slytherins attacking Jean and knocking them out cold. The young, tearful boy Jean had been protecting ran toward James and Lily, petrified, while Jean fell to the floor, the curse broken.

Remus watched her hastily get to her feet, her eyes wild. She glanced around, terrified and shaking. She jerked away from Lily when she tried to calm her. Her gaze then settled upon him. A moment later she was clutching him tightly, burying her tear-stained face in his shoulder.

He was astonished right out of his anger. All this time he'd been afraid Jean would run away from him because of what he was, but this evening she'd run _to_ him, to _him_ , not Lily or Sirius — she'd wanted him to be the one to hold her. And he did. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair soothingly, whispering words of comfort in her ear until she was no longer trembling, no longer afraid.

* * *

In the days following the attack Remus felt like his friendship with Jean had grown warmer. There were even moments between them that made him think she might feel for him what he felt for her, like that time she'd slipped in the entrance hall, the floor wet from students dragging in snow from outside, and stumbled into him. She'd lingered in his arms when he caught her, a light blush tingeing her cheeks as she peered up at him shyly, her gaze slipping down to his mouth before he'd stepped back from her nervously. Part of him was wary of those moments but mostly they buoyed his spirits. Unfortunately, his spirits slumped back down again whenever he saw Sirius flirting with her.

One day as he and Sirius were in the passageway behind the tapestry and Sirius was brainstorming aloud ways he might trap her beneath the mistletoe to find out if she was a good kisser, Remus just couldn't take it anymore and told his friend that if he fancied Jean he should just ask her out already.

"Maybe I will ask her out," Sirius replied. "Would that bother you?"

"Why would that bother me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're in love with her."

And then Sirius confessed to him that he flirted with Jean only because he knew he liked her and wanted to pressure him into asking her out before he did. When he told Sirius that plan was stupid because he should've known she'd end up falling for him instead, Sirius told him, "She likes _you,_ Remus. It's clear as day to anyone who's ever seen the two of you together."

Remus was stunned. If Sirius thought that . . . could it really be true then? Did it even matter?

"When are you going to ask her out?" Sirius demanded.

"I'm not."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Your furry little problem. Of course," Sirius sighed. "But Jean already knows and she's fine with it."

"She's okay with being friends, but being anything more than that . . . it's different. She wouldn't . . ."

"How do you know that?"

"What girl in her right mind would want to be with a creature like me?"

"She likes you, Remus. She likes _you_ ," Sirius told him bracingly. "Your furry little problem doesn't change the way she feels about you. She said so herself. You're the one who has an issue with it. Why can't you just —"

"It's not that simple. What I am . . . it isn't right. It isn't fair to her."

Sirius shook his head, regarding him with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "Remus, I know the whole werewolf thing is tough and completely unfair, but you can't let it stop you from living your life. Jean is perfect for you. Ask her out. You'll regret it if you don't."

Remus mulled this over the next few days and knew that if Jean truly did have feelings for him, if she truly didn't care he was a werewolf, then he probably would regret not asking her out. But still he hesitated. It seemed far too incredible that Jean would want to be with him. It would be too good to be true.

His friends kept encouraging him, though, suggesting he ask her to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. He had to remind them that he couldn't go to that because he had detention that day, and regrettably so. On the way to detention that evening he ran into Jean who was heading to the party, and she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

After suffering through his punishment, Remus went to the top of the Astronomy Tower, the place he often went to think, and found a wonderful surprise awaiting him. Jean was there, gazing up at the starry night sky.

"You look like you're doing some serious thinking," he told her.

"I am."

"Care to share?"

She unloaded the questions that were plaguing her mind, questions about fate, freewill, prophecies, time, and alternate dimensions, and she was pacing and pacing, and going on about the unfathomableness of it all.

"Wow," he said when she finally stopped. "You really were doing some serious thinking."

They stood there for a while, quietly contemplating the stars, which were closer here than anywhere else in the castle yet still far beyond their reach. Remus took his time considering her questions and his own beliefs before he finally responded.

He gave her his take on things, ending with, "We should do what we feel is right with the time we are given. That way we can live with whatever comes next. No regrets."

Jean repeated his words thoughtfully and began pacing once more.

Remus watched her for a few moments, thinking about what he'd just said and admiring how incredible she looked tonight in her shimmering silver dress, her hair falling loose from the bun it had been in earlier, and he didn't want to hesitate anymore.

"Jean," he said softly, grabbing her wrist to stop her pacing. She turned to him, and for a second he thought she was going to begin rambling again, but then her pensive expression softened and she was silent and still. His heart, in contrast, was loud and leaping. He swept back one of her loose curls and studied her lovely face, her chocolate brown eyes and her slightly parted lips, and all he could think of, all he wanted to do, was kiss her.

"No regrets," he whispered, and then he took the leap.

His lips met hers gently, tentatively at first until contrary to his every fear Jean didn't pull away from him in shock or disgust but pressed her lips more firmly to his. And the usual thrill he felt at their contact was different this time. It was like magic, warm and brilliant and powerful, had sparked between them, and it filled him completely, flowing through his veins and seeping into his very soul. Suddenly the stars were no longer out of reach. He was among them, feeling oddly invigorated and slightly dazed and breathless by the time he pulled away from her. And could tell from her expression she'd been similarly affected.

But her expression changed after he took her hand, and with all the courage he had confessed, "I really like you, Jean. I have for a while now. Maybe even since we first met."

"I have to go," she said before he could go on. "It's past curfew. I should be in my dorm."

He offered to walk her, but she refused, looking panicked as she hurried away and left him there alone and confused.

She'd run away from him. But why? He'd given her plenty of time to pull away from his kiss if she'd wanted to, but she hadn't. She'd kissed him back. He thought she'd felt what he'd felt. But she'd looked frightened afterwards. She must be afraid of him after all. She'd kissed a werewolf and now she regretted it.

Remus spent the night in a troubled state, fearing he'd just ruined his friendship with Jean. He needed to talk to her and apologize right way, which was the first thing he did when he found her in the library the next morning.

"I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have kissed you. You were all mixed up thinking about — about determinism and time complexities, I shouldn't have —"

"I really like you too, Remus."

Astonished by her words and sure he must have misheard her, he said, "I'm sorry?"

"What happened last night . . . I'm sorry I ran away like I did. I didn't mean . . . I was just — I was afraid. . . ."

"Oh. I — I understand," he said, feeling a terrible pang in his heart as he took a step back. She _was_ afraid of him. "You probably. . . . What I am must —"

"No, it wasn't because of that. It — it had nothing to do with that. I was afraid of — of what the kiss meant. I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Neither do I. I don't want what I said last night, I don't want what happened to mess things up between us."

"It hasn't." She bit her lip as she contemplated him a moment. Then she told him again, "I really like you too, Remus."

Her words took a few seconds to sink in, and even then he could still hardly believe it. But he could see in her eyes it was true. She glanced down at his lips, and feeling like the luckiest person to have ever walked the halls of the castle, he took the hint and kissed her again.

* * *

Two months ago Remus had thought it could never happen, but now it was a reality: he was the happiest guy in the entire wizarding world. He was with the girl of his dreams and grateful for every moment spent with her. Whether they were having snowball fights, kissing under the mistletoe, or cuddling by the fireplace, his heart felt fuller and lighter than it ever had. He often felt dazed by his own happiness.

Everything was perfect — well, perfect except for one little thing: he sometimes felt like Jean was hiding something from him. He couldn't quite explain why he felt this, but it was something in the way she looked at him sometimes. Perhaps, though, he was just imagining things, convinced there had to be something wrong because he still thought being with Jean was too good to be true.

Then one evening, as he was sneaking to the kitchens for a snack, he checked the Marauder's Map and was stunned when he noticed that the dot that was supposed to be hers wasn't labeled "Jean Wilkins" but "Hermione Granger." His suspicions of her seemed to be well-founded. And they were all but confirmed the next evening as they talked in the Gryffindor common room.

Jean confessed to having lied about her blood status, which he'd already suspected but didn't blame her for. They lived in dangerous times, and it was safer to not advertise being Muggle-born. But he shared with her his feeling that there was something else she wasn't telling him, and experienced this feeling again when he mentioned the mysteriousness of how they'd first met with her magically appearing in his dormitory and the way the Marauder's Map labeled her.

She told him the map was wrong, but that was impossible. The map never lied — so did that mean she was lying?

He didn't know what to think that night as he lay in bed. He wasn't upset about her lying so much as he was a bit hurt she wouldn't confide in him and curious about what she wasn't telling him. His thoughts shifted as he looked out the window and remembered the full moon was only a week away. His heightened senses would kick in soon, so he mentally prepared himself for his hypersensitivity to Jean's scent and the impulses it might trigger.

When he met Jean the next morning, however, he realized he'd greatly underestimated the effect she would have on him. He greeted her with a kiss as usual and was overwhelmed with desires and impulses more powerful than any he'd ever experienced before. Fearful of the wolf stirring within him, he hastily pulled away from her. He'd always had great self-control, but he'd never been affected with this intensity and wasn't sure he could keep his impulses in check.

So he avoided physical contact with Jean after that, and avoided her completely for a while as well, going off to help a couple of Ravenclaws with a prank, and afterwards going to the D.A.D.A. classroom to meditate, a practice Dumbledore had taught him to help him maintain his sense of self and subdue the influence of the wolf.

Just as he was finishing up, Jean found him in the classroom. She thought he was upset with her because of the conversation they'd had the night before. Although he assured her he wasn't, she said, "But I feel like there's been some tension between us today. I've been getting this vibe that you — well, that you don't really want to be around me."

Remus didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell her what was actually wrong with him, afraid he might scare her away, so he ended up saying, "It's not that I don't want to be around you" — the problem, as usual, was that he wanted to be with her too much — "I just need some space."

He told her that he trusted her and was a bit surprised when she admitted that there was indeed something she was hiding from him because Dumbledore had forbidden her from telling anyone. Remus told her he understood and repeated that he wasn't upset. Still she didn't believe him, so he assured her again, "Everything is good between us."

He gently brushed her hair away from her face and caressed her cheek. She leaned into his palm, the light contact heating his blood with desire. He tried to ignore it and reminded himself that _he_ was in control, not the wolf.

"More than good. Being with you has been incredible, Jean. These last two weeks have been the best of my life."

Then, before he could stop her, she was kissing him, and they became locked in an embrace he couldn't bring himself to pull away from. He got lost in his impulses and backed her up onto the teacher's desk, filled with a powerful, greedy lust. He could sense Jean's desire in addition to his own — could almost feel it in his blood — and then he perceived her apprehension.

" _Remus!_ " she shrieked, her fingernails digging sharply into his hand.

Slowly he came back to himself and was shocked by the position in which he found himself. He jumped off the desk and backed away from his girlfriend in alarm.

"I — I'm sorry, Jean. I didn't mean to . . ."

He needed to go, get away from her scent, so he bolted from the classroom and didn't stop until he was just outside the castle and the sudden feel of the bitter cold shocked his system. He sank down onto one of the snowy steps, perturbed by what had just happened, unable to believe he'd just completely lost control like that. He couldn't believe he'd bitten Jean's lip as they'd kissed — he wasn't supposed to bite. Not under any circumstances. It was too dangerous. He could get carried away by his wolfish instincts and infect her.

Remus tensed when he caught Jean's scent again.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said, glancing at her warily as she sat down next to him.

"You didn't scare me. You just . . . you didn't really seem like you."

"I wasn't," he told her, and reluctantly began to explain how he was influenced by the moon even before it was full. She interrupted him, telling him he didn't have to explain because she'd read about it before. Of course she had. Knowing this didn't help his mortification.

"It's never affected me like this before, not so strongly," he said, then told her how Dumbledore had taught him practices to keep his mind and not lose himself to the werewolf part of himself, practices that normally worked very well. "I — I think your scent affects me differently, though, more intensely than anybody else's, because I've never lost control before. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She told him not to worry about it, but he couldn't help but worry that this incident would make Jean reconsider their relationship.

Jean, however, stuck by his side. She understood that her scent and touch triggered him and acted cautiously the next few days, but not because she was afraid so much as because she wanted to make sure he was comfortable around her. He was taken by her considerateness and the affection behind it, and he greatly appreciated her compassionate nature. She was proving once more that she truly didn't care he was a werewolf.

The night before Christmas Remus contemplated his mother's necklace and whether or not he should give it to Jean. This necklace had meant a lot to his parents, and to him too. He wondered if it was too soon to give it away. But the day after Christmas, when he saw Jean wearing the necklace, its heart pendant resting against her own heart, he knew he'd made the right decision.

He took her through one of the castle's secret passageways that day and into the village of Hogsmeade where they had a spontaneous picnic in the snow. Now that the full moon had passed they no longer had to avoid physical contact with each other and made up for lost time by spending most of the afternoon snogging, their kisses tasting deliciously like chocolate. Everything was perfect once again.

But then everything changed the next day.

When Jean told him she'd be transferring to a new school, he was absolutely gutted. "You're leaving?" he said, unable and unwilling to believe it.

"I'm leaving," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Yes."

That was too soon. Much too soon. He hugged her to him and was reluctant to let her go again when he realized that by this time the next day holding her like this would be impossible. Why did she have to go? Why now when they'd gotten so close and everything was going so well between them and parting from her would be unbearable?

They tried to make the best of the little time they had left together, but the day was too short and night came too fast. Sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, a heavy silence fell between them until Jean reminded him that he still owed her a dance from Halloween.

"You're right," he said, getting to his feet with a small smile. "I will honor my debt if you will honor me."

She took the hand he offered, her eyes glowing. "But there's no music."

He remembered James had a radio and hurried to his dormitory to retrieve it. He was surprised when Jean joined him up there. They joked about how they'd first met in this room, but then their expressions turned somber again.

"I wish I didn't have to go," she said, her voice breaking as she hugged him.

"Me too," he said, holding her close. "But we'll write to each other like we promised, and we can see each other again when school is out." But he had a horrible feeling that wouldn't happen. "Jean, we'll see each other again, won't we?"

"We will," she said softly.

She gently caressed his cheek and a pair of tears rolled down her own. He felt helpless as he wiped them away. He pressed his lips to her forehead, then his mouth covered hers. When he started to pull away again, she clutched his shirt, keeping him close, and the way she whispered his name almost sounded like a plea. He could feel her distress as clearly as he could see it in her eyes, could feel her longing as strongly as he felt his own.

So he kissed her and hoped she could feel what he wasn't yet brave enough to say. He kissed her like it would be the last time he'd ever get to, because it just might be the last time, and he could feel his sentiment, his desperation, his desire, reciprocated in her own kiss.

They began to strip each other of their clothes, and her touch was like the pleasant warmth of bluebell flames dancing across his bare skin. Then, suddenly, her hands went still on his chest. She broke away from their kiss to look at his scars.

"I know they're not a pleasant sight," he said self-consciously. "If they bother you —"

"They don't." Her fingers lightly traced a scar on his chest. "I just don't like that you've been hurt." She placed soft kisses along his old wound before looking him in the eyes again. "And believe me, Remus, you _are_ a pleasant sight. You're gorgeous."

 _She_ was gorgeous. She was perfect. He was merely lucky, lucky to be able to explore her curves and her silky soft skin as they lay together in bed, lucky to be able to feel her longing for him, in her kiss and in the way she responded to his touch, in the way that she pulled him closer, urging him for more.

But he tried to take things slow. He needed to in order to keep himself in control. Because the wolf was always priming to take over, not just when the full moon was near, but whenever he felt any emotion too strongly. And the way Jean was pressing her body against his was driving him wild. He thought he felt a second heartbeat racing in his chest, and a desire that was not his own overwhelmed him. That desire then mingled with panic.

"Remus . . . Remus, wait."

Immediately, though reluctantly, he pulled away from her.

"I-I'm not sure I can do this," she said. "I've never done this before. I — I'm not sure I'm ready."

So the panic he'd felt had been _hers_. He pushed aside his curiosity over how he could have felt what she was feeling, and his own feelings of mingled disappointment and relief that she'd put a stop between them, and said, "If you're not sure, then we shouldn't."

She apologized, but he told her he understood, admitting, "I've never either."

"Can I still stay here tonight?" she asked tentatively. "Can we — can you just hold me?"

"Of course," he said at once, grateful all his roommates had gone home for the Christmas holiday and he had the dormitory to himself.

She chose his blue sweatshirt to wear to bed, and then they snuggled together beneath the covers. It wasn't long before she dozed off, but he resisted the pull of sleep. He didn't want morning to arrive. He wanted the night to go on forever like this, while he was lying here with Jean in his arms.

But the night didn't last forever. Morning did come.

And Jean wasn't in bed beside him when he woke up. A note was left in her place:

 _Remus,_

 _Please forgive me for leaving without waking you,  
but I just couldn't bear saying goodbye.  
I hope to see you again soon._

 _All my love,  
_ _Jean_

Remus sat bolt upright. _No_ — she couldn't have left already. He jumped out of bed and in record time made his way to Dumbledore's office because she'd said she'd meet with the headmaster before she left —

But she wasn't there. Dumbledore told him regretfully that she'd already gone.

 _She'd already gone_.

Remus dragged himself back to his dorm, feeling numb. He was too late. Jean had left. And he didn't get the chance to say goodbye, didn't get the chance to tell her the words that had been burning in his throat while he'd watched her sleep last night. He slumped onto his bed, trying not to think that he might never get the chance to tell her now, might never get the chance to see her again.

He didn't know how long he'd been lying there when Sirius walked into the room.

"What are you still doing in bed?" his friend asked.

Remus forced himself to sit up. "What are you doing back at Hogwarts so soon?"

"Family drama at the Potter's residence. Thought it best if I ducked out and came back to school early. You should have seen Mrs. Potter's face when she found out — Hey, what's this?" Sirius picked up Jean's blouse from the floor and held it before him. "Is this —?" He raised his eyebrows and shot him an incredulous look. " _Sweet Merlin, Moony!_ You and Jean —?" He whooped with laughter and punched his arm. "How was it? Was she —?"

"She's gone," he said, cutting across his friend's excitement.

"What?"

"She's transferring to another school," he told him in a hollow voice. "She had to leave Hogwarts this morning. She's gone."

Sirius's grin faded. "That's rotten luck, mate."

As Sirius grasped his shoulder, Remus buried his face in his hands. The numbness that had been protecting him was gone now, replaced by a deep, growing ache in his chest.

Rotten luck. He knew it had been too good to be true. He'd thought Jean was dream when they'd first met, and she might as well have been. . . .

* * *

"Remus . . . _Remus . . ._ "

The feel of a gentle hand on his shoulder anchored Remus as he reemerged from the whirlwind of his memories, his eyes slowly fluttering open to the lovely face of a girl kneeling beside him, watching over him — Jean.

The ache in his chest lifted. She'd come back, she hadn't left him after all, Jean was here —

No. Not Jean. . . .

 _Hermione_.

"Are — are you all right?" she asked, examining him with worry.

He blinked up at her, his mind reeling. Hermione . . . the girl he'd thought was a dream . . . the girl he'd dated when he was seventeen . . . the girl he'd kissed countless times. . . .

"Are you okay?"

He slowly sat up in her bed where he'd collapsed after she'd handed him the rose and stared at her in disbelief. Those memories . . . they couldn't be true, could they?

"Remus?"

But she had his mother's necklace, and with a jolt he realized the blue jumper she was wearing — that was _his_ jumper, the one he'd let her borrow their last night together. . . . And that mysterious note and blouse he'd found amongst his things later hadn't been part of a prank his friends had tried to pull on him. _Hermione_ had left them that night, after they'd —

Merlin's beard, he and Hermione had almost. . . .

"Remus, please —"

His pulse was out of control. He was overwhelmed, his head spinning with the memories, his heart overcome with every emotion he'd experienced, his wolfish impulses firing erratically —

"— _say something_."

Her anxious eyes searched his face, those eyes that had looked at him with such longing that night in his dormitory, the same longing he felt now, intensified by the memory of her touch, of the feel of her body against his, the taste of her kiss —

"Do you — do you remember?" she whispered.

"Vividly," he answered hoarsely. And then his lips claimed hers.


	37. Chapter 37

It was like being struck by lightning.

Every nerve in Remus's body was set alight when his lips met Hermione's, only it wasn't pain jolting through him but pleasure, pure all-consuming pleasure that surged more strongly with the small moan she gave of surprise or satisfaction or both. His wolfish impulses went haywire. He was lost, overwhelmed, the wolf reveling as it took command and he completely forgot himself, forgot everything but his fierce hunger for her, his need to claim what was his.

He laid her down, kissing her hard, her skin deliciously soft as his hand ran up her thigh. Everything was sensation and instinct and that sweet, all-consuming pleasure — until Hermione suddenly yelped and pushed him away.

Her hand shot to her mouth and he froze, a flash of fear that was not his own cutting through the lustful haze clouding his mind. He stared down at her, disorientated. Her chest heaving, she examined the fingers she'd touched to her lips, and Remus came hurtling back to his senses when he realized she was checking for blood — he'd _bitten_ her.

"Oh god." He hastily pulled away from her.

"It's okay. You didn't hurt me," she said quickly, but he jerked away from her when she reached for him, his wolfish impulses going haywire again at her touch.

He scrambled off her bed, the fear overcoming him all his own now and adding to the confusion of impulses firing within him. He'd never felt this way before, not even with Hermione. It was as if the effect she had on him had strengthened with the memories the rose had returned to him but everything was muddled. He didn't know if what he was feeling was passion or aggression, sexual desire or a craving for flesh, his instincts or the wolf's, or a combination of the above. All he knew was that these feelings were too intense, too volatile, too dangerous.

He staggered back toward the door. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"It's okay, Remus," she said, climbing out of bed after him. "I know — the full moon is near."

"I shouldn't be here."

"Remus, wait."

He didn't have a choice. He turned to the door only to find that the rose's magic was still keeping him locked in the room.

With nowhere to go, he turned back to Hermione. She'd stopped short of him, surveying him cautiously from a few feet away. She was sensible to keep her distance. He hadn't just kissed her moments ago, he'd _pounced_ on her. He wondered if she could see on his face the shadow of the wolf he felt thrashing mightily within him, how much he was struggling to hold it back.

And then Vivienne's ominous last words to him came rushing to his mind: _You can't keep holding back forever. You can't keep caging yourself. You're going to break free eventually, whether you want to or not. . . ._

She was right. He'd lost control with Hermione twice now — three times counting the incident in the D.A.D.A. classroom in the past. He needed to find a way out of here. He looked around frantically, searching the room and his knowledge of magic for a way to escape.

"Remus . . . are you all right?"

He stopped his frantic searching upon seeing Hermione's expression. He was scaring her, acting like the caged animal that he was.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm fine now," he said, relaxing his posture and hiding his panic as best he could. He tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths, but it didn't help much considering he was only inhaling her intoxicating scent. He could do nothing but keep his distance and make sure they didn't touch again. "We should try to figure out a way to get out of here."

She frowned at him slightly. "But we . . . we need to talk about what happened."

"I'm sorry," he said, glancing down at the lip he'd bitten. Why did she have to affect him this way? And why was all this happening now? Why did he have to be locked in this room with her at precisely this time of the month when his emotions and impulses were so difficult to control? "I didn't mean to — to kiss you like that. I lost control."

"Your wolfish impulses . . . that's all that was?"

She had to know as well as he did that that wasn't entirely true, didn't she? After everything that had happened between them in the past, she _had_ to know how he felt about her. His secret, the feelings he'd been so careful to guard as an adult, had been betrayed and divulged by none other than his younger self. He'd revealed his heart to Hermione in the past, and it lay unbearably bare before her now.

And she'd known all along. She'd known all year. She'd known how he felt about her even before he'd become aware of his feelings. Why hadn't she said anything? Why hadn't she told him about any of this? She must have been too embarrassed, too ashamed of what had happened between them.

All of a sudden those times he'd sensed her nervousness around him at the start of the school year made sense. Of course she'd felt awkward. She'd dated her professor.

And he'd dated his student. He looked away from her. "We need to find a way out of here."

"But what about what happened in the past?" she asked tentatively. "Don't — don't you remember?"

The memories were still swirling at the forefront of his mind, too immediate, his emotions still too raw, and he wished he had time to process everything, time alone and not trapped in this room with her. He remembered every moment with her too vividly, as if it had happened yesterday, not twenty years ago. Their very first encounter in his dormitory. . . . _Who are you?_ she'd said — her first words to him. She hadn't known who he was. Her memory must have been modified when she'd been sent to the past. She hadn't known that they knew each other much later in the future. She couldn't have. If she'd known, she would have never allowed anything romantic to happen between them.

She'd hinted to as much herself before she'd handed him the rose and his memories earlier. _I didn't mean for any of this to happen_ , she'd told him. Did that mean she regretted it all and wished they had never gotten together? Is that why she'd never told him about her time travel and their relationship in the past, because she wanted to pretend it had never happened, like she'd wanted to pretend her awkward first encounter with his younger self had never happened?

He didn't blame her.

"Remus?"

"I remember, Hermione," he said as he inwardly cursed his younger self for revealing his feelings for her instead of staying away. "I — I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong."

"What happened between us in the past . . . I shouldn't have. . . . We need to find a way out of here."

"Remus, we need to talk about this."

"Please, help me find a way out of here first. It's late. I don't want —"

"You don't want to spend the night in this room alone with me. But you didn't have a problem sleeping with me when you were seventeen."

Remus tensed, something in her tone making him question whether more had happened between them than he remembered. "We — we _slept_ together?"

"So what if we did?" she answered with a hint of defiance, though she was blushing terribly. He, on the other hand, had paled, aghast.

"Hermione — don't you realize how wildly inappropriate this is? You're my student, and I — I'm old enough to be your father."

"We were classmates at the time, peers. We were the same age. Actually, I was a bit older than you. I was eighteen, so technically —"

"Technically you weren't even born yet."

"Only if you think of time in a linear fashion, but it's more complicated than that."

"Yes. I remember that conversation now."

On the Astronomy Tower, the night they'd first kissed, the night he'd complicated everything.

He began to pace like she had that night, running his hand through his hair and over his mouth, his thoughts and feelings in total disarray. He couldn't believe he and Hermione. . . . He couldn't believe she had been his first. He wished he could remember. No — he was grateful he couldn't if he was already struggling with his desires with what he did remember. How was he supposed to teach her in classes after this? He'd never be able to look at her the same way, not now that he knew what she looked like beneath her school uniform, beneath him —

"We didn't sleep together," she said quietly. "I meant it in the literal sense. The last night in your dormitory . . . you know we didn't — we didn't get that far."

"I'm not sure what I know anymore, Hermione."

He'd gone so long with his memory incomplete, with his _self_ incomplete — robbed of experiences he'd thought he'd never be lucky enough to have and his heart torn in a way he'd always felt on a certain level but could never quite explain — who was to say there weren't more missing memories, more pieces of himself that had been ripped away from him?

"I'm s-sorry, Remus."

He stopped pacing upon hearing the tremble in her voice.

"Forgive me, Hermione. I'm not angry at you. This isn't your fault. I — I'm upset with myself."

"You shouldn't be. You didn't know who I was. You didn't know we knew each other in the future."

"Neither did you." But something like guilt crossed her face, making him question his previous assumption. "You didn't know, did you?"

She swallowed. "I — I did."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "You mean . . . your memories of the future were unaffected? You knew who I was?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then why did you . . . why did you allow all that to happen? Why didn't you put a stop to what was going on between us? Why didn't you stay away?"

"I couldn't. I tried — that's why I ran off after we first kissed, because I thought if you ever found out —"

" _If_ I ever found out. . . ." he repeated, the truth dawning on him. He stared at her incredulously. "You knew the whole time my memory would be Obliviated. You knew I would never remember what happened between us, but you still. . . . And when you returned to the present, you never planned on telling me. You didn't want me to know. You thought I'd never find out about this."

Why would she do that? Why would she date him and then pretend like it had never happened? What was she playing at?

"I didn't know what to do, Remus. I didn't know if I should tell you —"

"You shouldn't have allowed us to become romantically involved in the first place. You should have told me the truth then, Hermione. You should have told me everything."

"Dumbledore forbade me to tell anyone about my time travel. But I wanted to, Remus. I tried to tell you, but you said I should do as Dumbledore said."

He remembered. In the D.A.D.A. classroom, the day he'd been struggling with his wolfish impulses and she'd thought he was upset with her. _But I want to tell you, Remus. I have to. I need to make sure things are okay between us,_ she'd said. He'd told her everything _was_ okay, but. . . .

"I didn't know you were hiding something like this, Hermione. If I had known —" What would he have done? He rubbed his temple, trying to soothe the dull ache in his head triggered by the recovery of his memories. "You should have stayed away."

"I'm sorry, Remus. I was s-so torn after we first kissed, but when I talked to Dumbledore —"

"Dumbledore? Did he know about us?"

"Well — yes."

He didn't know why he was surprised by this. Of course Dumbledore had known. He'd seen them kissing under the mistletoe and he was the one who'd Obliviated his memory after all. He'd known all those years. . . . He'd known when he'd hired him as a professor, and all that time he'd kept it to himself. All those years he had worked for him in the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore had never said a word to him about it, had never alluded to anything. . . .

Or perhaps he had. Remus remembered the time he was with the headmaster at the Burrow and they'd been discussing Harry and how fast he'd had to grow up. When they'd seen through the window that Hermione had arrived, Dumbledore said, _Speaking_ _of growing up, Miss Granger certainly has. She's become quite a beautiful young woman, hasn't she?_

Why had Dumbledore said that? Was the headmaster attempting to determine whether he, the werewolf he'd once hired as her professor, still had feelings for his young student even as a much older adult? Remus shuddered to think what Dumbledore must have thought of him.

And then another memory popped into his mind, a much more recent one. The night of the Valentine's Day dance, when he'd confronted George after catching him with Hermione, George had told him, _You can't blame me for not being able to resist a little snogging in a lonely classroom. After all, you did the same with her when you were seventeen._

George knew. He _had_ to know what had happened between him and Hermione in the past — why else would he have said that?

"George Weasley knows too, doesn't he?"

His question startled Hermione and she hesitated before confirming his suspicion.

So she'd told George — why would she do that?

He remembered the laughter that had filled the younger wizard's eyes upon seeing him get so worked up over Hermione the night of the dance. George had known he had feelings for her and he'd purposely taunted him that night. . . .

"Who else knows about this?" he asked.

Tentatively, she revealed, "Harry and Ginny."

 _She's stunning, isn't she?_ Ginny had said about Hermione to their group of friends at the dance while looking directly at him and wearing a knowing smile. . . .

Remus couldn't believe it. If Ginny and Harry and George knew, it was almost certain Fred and Ron knew as well. And who else had they told? Who else had known more about his feelings, more about his own past than he had?

"You shouldn't have told them, Hermione, not when I wasn't even aware of any of this. You should have told me."

"I'm sorry, Remus —"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "Were you too ashamed of what happened? Were you too embarrassed we'd dated?"

"No, I —"

"You've been acting all year as if nothing had ever happened between us. You completely disregarded my feelings for you. I gave you my mother's necklace, and you — you were lying to me about everything! You were just playing with my emotions."

"No, Remus, I never played with your emotions! I just didn't know what to do. I d-didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know how you felt now, and I was afraid of how you'd react. I was afraid you w-wouldn't understand."

She'd said something like that to him before, when she'd told him about her boy trouble. She'd told him that she'd made some mistakes, that she feared her ex-boyfriend wouldn't understand why she'd done what she'd done, that he wouldn't forgive her. . . .

And he realized now who she'd been talking about that day. She'd said she'd dated the guy in question in the past and that he wasn't a student but a bit older than her. Well, _he_ had dated her in the past, _he_ wasn't a student but her professor, and a bit older than her to say the least — she'd been talking about _him_.

"I couldn't stay away from you, Remus," she said, eyes begging him to understand. "I couldn't."

And it had plagued her with guilt. She'd told him that she was afraid he wouldn't want to be anywhere near her after what she'd done. She feared he didn't care for her anymore and that he didn't realize she still had feelings for him like she had before —

She still had feelings for him.

She'd just been afraid. But she had feelings for him. . . .

His heart hammered painfully against his chest as she continued.

"I hated not being able to be completely honest with you and having to pretend that nothing had ever happened between us. Because what happened in the past . . . that was all real to me."

It _had_ all been real. He'd felt it, in the way she'd looked at him, all those times they'd kissed, their last night together — she'd been ready to give herself to him that night. She'd almost been his. . . .

"Remus, I —"

"Don't touch me, Hermione," he blurted when she stepped closer, his panic surging at her approach. He felt a pang of guilt as she hastily backed away from him, her eyes glistening with tears. Again he wondered why all this had to be happening now when his impulses were so hard to keep in check.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I — I don't know what to think right now. This was a lot to take in," he said honestly. The pain in his head had grown piercing. "I think we should get some rest."

"Okay," she whispered.

He glanced around the room as she wiped away her tears.

"I'll sleep in there," he said, indicating the bathroom.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll make you a bed of blankets right here."

"I'd prefer to sleep in a separate room — as a precaution. Four nights until the full moon."

"You didn't take your potion today."

"I did. The potion just doesn't help me when it comes to you. Your scent — But I don't have to explain, do I? You already know you affect me differently. You've known all along."

He couldn't keep the accusation out of his tone, and he saw a light blush tinge her cheeks before he retreated into the small refuge of solitude the rose had allowed him.

* * *

Remus sat against the bathroom door, his head pounding in his hands and a terrible ache in his chest. He knew Hermione was crying in her bedroom. He could _feel_ it, like he'd felt her anguish when she'd told him about her boy trouble. He remembered the sadness that had tainted her features during the couple of weeks prior to that conversation and he realized now that sadness was because of him, because she couldn't be with him.

She had feelings for him. She couldn't stay away.

Like he hadn't been able to stay away from her, in the past and during the last few months. As soon as he'd realized the true nature of his feelings he should have distanced himself from her. But he hadn't. He couldn't. He was too drawn to her. As usual his problem was that he wanted to be around her too much. And that seemed to always lead to trouble for him and danger for her.

Because she brought out the wolf in him and he'd learned all his self-discipline was useless. He was as capable as any other werewolf to lose control when it came to Hermione, and he knew he could never live with himself if he were to ever hurt her in any way — like Rosalind had hurt his friend Hugh. He knew he had to do what he criticized her for not doing and stay away from Hermione.

 _But what if she didn't want you to stay away? What if she loved you and wanted to be with you?_ Hermione had asked him on Valentine's Day about the girl he'd hypothetically fallen in love with. But had she been speaking hypothetically, or had she been referring to herself when she'd spoken about that girl's feelings? Love was a strong word, but the thought that she might want to be with him . . . if that were true. . . .

He'd give almost anything to live again the incredible joy he'd felt when they were together, but like he'd told her on Valentine's Day, that just wasn't possible. He'd have to stay away. Because he knew better than his younger, naive self who had still been hopeful that by keeping his lycanthropy a secret he could live a semi-normal and successful life, and who hadn't yet lived the years of poverty and hardship and shame that he had. He knew what Hermione didn't understand or simply didn't want to accept: he was too dangerous. She deserved better.

Bitterness rose within him and he cursed his lycanthropy. He cursed his younger self and what had happened in the past for making everything worse, for making the reality that he couldn't be with Hermione even harder to accept. He cursed the rose because it was what had started all this. It was what had sent Hermione to the past.

This was all the rose's fault.

* * *

After a rough, sleepless night, Remus reluctantly joined Hermione in her bedroom the next morning.

"We're still locked in," she informed him as he automatically glanced at the door. "I already checked."

She was holding the rose responsible for this predicament, and he was grateful to also see that she was no longer wearing his old jumper but was fully dressed this morning. Her eyes were puffy from crying, though, and her bottom lip was slightly swollen. He winced and lowered his gaze to the flower in her hands.

"May I see the rose?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's yours now anyhow. It presented itself to you."

Careful to avoid any touching between them, he took the rose she handed over, immediately feeling its magic tickle his fingers. He studied the mysterious flower, trying to understand its power and its reason for meddling with him and Hermione.

She'd told him the night before that it had sent him to her because it wanted them to talk, and he reckoned it would release them once they'd said what they needed to say. Only he dreaded the conversation he knew they had to have. But there was no going around it, no putting it off. The rose had ensured that by locking them in this room together.

"Remus," Hermione started after a short silence, and he could see that unlike himself she was bursting to speak. "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I know you're upset with me, and you have every right to be, because of what I did, because I did lie about some things, and I — I violated your trust. But I need you to know . . . I never lied about my feelings."

"Hermione —" he started, his chest tight, but she went on.

"Please, Remus, I need to say this."

He wished she wouldn't — it would only make things harder — but he fell silent again, letting her speak.

She took a breath before continuing. "Being sent to the past — being sent to _you_ . . . I was thrown into a situation that was incredibly difficult for me. I didn't know what to do. But you told me the night we first kissed that we should do what we feel is right with the time we are given. So that's what I did. Even though I worried how you'd react to all this . . . being with you felt right."

Her words wrenched his heart, and he struggled to maintain his resolve because being with her had felt right to him too. . . .

"You once told me that the weeks you were with me were the best of your life. I felt the same way," she said, her voice growing thick. "That's why leaving you was so hard. These past few months have been so hard because all I wanted was for things to be like they were before, but I had to pretend like nothing had happened. I had to keep my distance when all I wanted was to be with you again."

At that moment a flash of blinding light illuminated the room, startling them both. When the glare diminished it revealed that the door that had been locked now stood ajar — the rose had lifted its magic. He was finally free to leave.

But instead of relief Remus felt conflicted.

Hermione glanced anxiously between him and the exit, and though his desire to leave this instant without doing what he needed to do was equal to his desire to just throw caution to the wind and take her in his arms, he did neither. Instead he stayed where he was, steeling himself for what he had to tell her.

"Hermione . . . we can't be together."

Her expression hardly changed. She seemed to have expected him to say that.

"Why not?" she asked calmly.

"Because the rose . . . this is all the rose's doing," he said, glancing down at the flower in his hand. "It's proven it's capable of powerful magic. How do you know its magic hasn't manipulated you and your feelings? How do you know you're not under its influence?"

This she didn't seem to expect and it riled her up.

"I'm not under any influence! I had feelings for you long before you ever gave me that rose!"

His heart swelled with new hope, but he quickly suppressed it because it didn't matter. That changed nothing.

"Why _did_ you give me the rose that night?" she asked.

"You'd just told me you'd been named Head Girl, and I — I just wanted to congratulate you."

It had been an innocent gesture, hadn't it? He'd had no romantic intention. Why, then, had he felt a little thrill followed by a twinge of guilt upon seeing the color that had bloomed in her cheeks as she'd taken the rose he'd offered?

"But what were you thinking?" Hermione pressed. "How did you feel? Because something in that moment, something in that exchange between us, sparked the rose's magic."

"I don't know, Hermione. But it doesn't really matter, does it? What happened in the past doesn't change anything. This isn't 1977 anymore. We can't be together. Things are different. I'm your teacher now and twice your age."

"You're only my teacher for a few more months, and I don't care how old you are! That shouldn't matter. I think that's why the rose sent me to the past in the first place, to realize that those things don't matter. Back then we were free to feel how we truly felt about each other without age or anything else getting in the way. Let's not let that get in the way now! If you have feelings for me —"

"No, Hermione," he said abruptly, taking her aback. Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Then dread flickered in her eyes.

"No?" she exhaled.

"No," he forced himself to say again, his throat tight. He hated himself for doing this, but he had to, for _her_ sake. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I . . . I don't. I'm not the same person I was twenty years ago."

Her breath expelled from her body in a rush as his words hit her. He felt in his own chest the ache that replaced it, stifling the next breath she drew. She slowly shrank away from him, tears filling her eyes, and he wished things could be different, wished he could go to her and hold her and tell her how he really felt. But he held back. He had to.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault," he said, his fist clenching painfully around the rose's stem. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't given you the rose. It — it must be cursed."

"No," she said in a choked whisper, shaking her head. "It isn't cursed, it's pure."

"Its magic is too great, too dangerous. I'll check it again for enchantments and curses, but I think it would be safest to get rid of it."

"No — Remus, _please_ don't —" she said, rushing toward him.

He reacted instinctively. Wary of her touch he drew his wand and the strength of his Shield Charm forced her several steps back, making her stumble into the wall behind her.

A ringing silence filled the room.

Hermione stared at him through the invisible barrier between them, her eyes wide as though he'd just physically struck her. He felt like he had.

"I'm sorry . . ."

Unable to bear the look in her eyes, Remus hurried out of her bedroom. He swiftly crossed her sitting room and pulled open the door leading out to the corridor to find Ginny on the other side, her fist raised, poised to knock. Her eyebrows shot up high on her forehead to see him inside Hermione's dormitory, but he lowered his gaze and moved past her without a word.

He sped down the corridor, not knowing where he was going, just that he had to get away. But he couldn't escape the feel of Hermione's heart shattering in his chest. He couldn't escape the feel of the sobs that seized her body, her pain compounding with his own.

He blundered on, blind to the world around him. All he could see was the look on her face as he'd left — the same look he'd seen before, when he'd found her with the boggart that had taken his shape. Then it suddenly became clear to him exactly what her worst fear truly was, and his stomach churned with guilt as he realized he'd just made it come true.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter hurt to write, especially after reading your lovely reviews and how excited you were, but this is just the way the story had to go.

The good news is the next couple of chapters will be coming to you faster because I know I've been slow with the updates lately.

Also, this story has been nominated for the Shrieking Shack Society's Mischief Managed Award for Best Time Travel Fic. Thank you so much! If you want to vote and check out the other awesome stories that were nominated, you can go to shriekingshacksociety dot weebly dot com. Voting is open through April 30th.


	38. Chapter 38

Albus Dumbledore's knowing blue eyes were piercing Remus's from the portrait behind the headmistress's desk. Remus stared back at him, but not with the same serenity. There were questions he was burning to ask, reproaches he was attempting to suppress, and a strong urge to explain himself to the wizard he had always looked up to. Before he could express any of this, however, McGonagall returned to her desk.

"How are your students progressing?" she asked.

"Much better than I'd anticipated at the start of the year," Remus replied. "Friday sessions of Defense Club have helped a great deal."

"I noticed you canceled the last meeting."

"I was ill."

McGonagall looked him over, and he wondered if he looked as dreadful as he felt because she asked, "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine." Upon McGonagall's questioning gaze, he added, "The last full moon was just a bit rougher than normal." In truth it had been the worst he'd ever experienced while taking Wolfsbane Potion, which hadn't eased his symptoms this month as effectively as it usually did.

McGonagall nodded. "N.E.W.T.s are three months away. I expect you must be feeling the stress since your subject was the most affected by the education debacle that was last year. Tell me, has Miss Granger been up to task as your assistant? Has she been meeting your needs?"

"Uh, yes," Remus said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at her choice of words. "She's been a great help."

"I imagined she would be. The students in Defense Club seem to hold her in high regard and respect her as though she were another professor. I've heard comments about what an excellent pair the two of you make."

Remus felt a pang in his chest and glanced away from McGonagall only to catch Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. He averted his gaze again, shame mingling with his regret. He'd kissed a student. He'd done more than just kiss a student, he'd been in a romantic relationship with one, albeit in the past when he had no knowledge that he'd be her teacher in the future. Still, how could he look these professors in the eye after he'd betrayed their trust? These professors who had taken a huge chance on him by hiring him as a teacher despite the widespread prejudice against his kind.

"But actually," the headmistress continued, "I wanted to discuss Miss Weasley with you. I have some exciting news for her, but since I'll be away from the castle for a couple of days I thought you could break it to her. It appears — Merlin's beard, what _is_ that noise?"

Remus had noticed the faint whirring sound as well. McGonagall scanned her desk. Then out of one of the drawers she pulled a small glass object revolving like a spinning top — an Amoroscope, one of Fred and George's inventions. It was glowing blue.

"Ah, one of the tongue-in-cheek gifts from the Weasley twins," McGonagall said with a hint of humor. "As much grief as they have caused me over the years, I must admit they are brilliant with magic and quite amusing with their creations. Let's see . . ." She read the back of the product's box. "Blue means that you, Remus, are my friend and not a 'backstabbing phony.' That certainly is a relief to know."

"What do the other colors mean?" he asked, remembering how the Amoroscope had turned purple that time he'd been in the Weasleys' joke shop with Hermione.

"Red represents enmity, gray stands for indifference, and purple means love."

Remus experienced another pang in his chest. The Amoroscope had glowed strikingly bright and had whirled violently in his hand when he'd been with Hermione. That meant that what she felt toward him was very strong. . . .

Or it could mean nothing. The Amoroscope was, after all, just a silly toy as Hermione had said so herself. Either way, he pushed the thought from his mind. He didn't want to think about her right now.

He also didn't want to face Ginny. He dreaded his meeting with her that afternoon, but he couldn't refuse McGonagall's request.

And so after classes that day, the youngest Weasley entered his office. With a stiff greeting she sat in the chair opposite him, her arms crossed over her chest. With the intention of keeping anything to do with Hermione out of this hopefully short conversation, Remus began to speak only to be immediately interrupted.

"Hermione's really torn up because of you," Ginny said with a glare that made him want to squirm in his seat. "What you're doing to her isn't right."

Remus swallowed. "I've already apologized to her for what happened in the past —"

"I'm not talking about what happened in the past. I'm talking about what you're putting her through now."

"I'm not doing anything. I'm staying away."

"Exactly! Don't you realize how much she's already suffered over you this year? Don't you realize how much you're hurting her now by avoiding her like this and —"

"Ginny," Remus cut across her, unable to bear any more, "we're not here to talk about Hermione."

Ginny clearly had much more to say on the subject, but mercifully she held her tongue.

"I called you in," he went on, "because Professor McGonagall wanted me to relay to you some exciting news."

Curiosity mingled with the condemnation in Ginny's gaze. "What news?"

"A scout from the professional Quidditch league wants to come to Hogwarts and watch you play in the final match versus Ravenclaw."

Her mouth fell open. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. It seems the buzz about your talent on the pitch has spread past the walls of Hogwarts and reached the ears of recruiters for some of the professional teams."

"Wow. Does — does that mean . . . Do I have a shot at playing professionally?"

"Possibly. There are certainly people interested in seeing what you have to offer."

"Merlin's beard. If the scout is coming to the final . . . we _really_ have to win the Cup now."

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. You'll impress the scout playing as you normally do: with nerve and skill and fierce competitiveness."

After Ginny left, thrilled and anxious over the news he'd just given her, Remus sagged in his chair, tormented by what she'd told him about Hermione. She was hurting, suffering, because of him. The look on her face when he'd left her in her dormitory nearly two weeks ago still haunted him.

But he reminded himself that he'd done the right thing. He was doing the responsible thing now by maintaining his distance from her. The hurt she was feeling would soon cease. She'd get over those feelings she thought she had for him and be better off for it. He was doing the right thing.

* * *

"Oh no," Hermione grumbled when she awoke Thursday morning — she'd overslept.

She clambered out of bed and got ready at frantic speed, flying out of her dormitory minutes later, hoping to grab at least a piece of toast before breakfast was over and classes began. Her stomach felt hollow after she'd completely immersed herself in an intensive study session last night and forgot about dinner again.

So, her hastily packed book bag thumping against her with every step, she sped through corridors, down to the entrance hall, and through the open doors to the Great Hall — only to come to an abrupt halt when she collided into something solid.

Firm hands grasped her, keeping her from falling over backward at the sudden impact, and Hermione's already accelerated heart jolted when she looked up to find green-gray eyes staring back at her. She and Remus both froze, the memory of their last exchange hanging heavily between them, an ugly strain that was palpable and that pressed in on her chest, and was broken only when Professor Avila, who'd been walking with Remus, said in her usual stern tone, "No running in the corridors, Miss Granger. Mind where you are going," and Remus hastily released her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured before lowering his gaze and edging past her, Professor Avila following alongside him.

Hermione stood there for several seconds before she could bring herself to move again. Her appetite gone, she slowly turned around and dragged herself back toward the marble staircase, her mix of emotions a roiling sea inside her.

 _I'm sorry_ , he'd told her. She hated those words. She knew he meant them — she'd seen the guilt and something like sorrow flicker in his eyes when he'd said them moments ago, the same as when he'd said it that horrible morning in her dormitory when he'd walked out on her — but that didn't make her feel any better. That didn't help in the least. If anything, that only made everything worse.

He was sorry. But sorry for what exactly? Sorry that they couldn't be together? Sorry that he'd walked out on her after she'd professed her feelings for him? Sorry that he didn't return those feelings? Sorry that he'd ever given her the rose?

Did Remus truly believe the rose's magic had manipulated her feelings? Did he truly believe the rose was dangerous? Was he really going to get rid of it as he'd said?

Hermione reached the Transfiguration classroom and sank into the seat next to Ginny, anxious over the fate of the rose. If he did believe it was cursed, then he would want to break the curse, which would entail destroying its magic, the magic between them, and perhaps destroying the rose itself, the symbol of their love. The thought that he might have _already_ destroyed it was too much for her to bear.

"Miss Granger." Hermione jumped at the sound of Professor Avila's cross tone. She looked up to find her Transfiguration teacher scowling at her. "Do you plan on working on the assignment or sitting there and staring at the floor? Where is your book?"

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione muttered, scavenging through her bag as Professor Avila watched with a narrowed brow. But she couldn't find her textbook. "I . . . I don't have it."

"The audacity! You think yourself so intelligent so as not to need the textbook to do your work?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, very conscious of her classmates closely watching their exchange. "I just forgot —"

"Detention for your lack of preparation, Miss Granger. If you weren't going to come to class prepared, you shouldn't have come at all."

Anger suddenly flared within Hermione and she shot to her feet.

"You're right, Professor. I would have saved us a lot of trouble if I hadn't shown up to class today. So," she said, snatching her bag, "why don't I just do us both a favor and go now?" Jaws dropped all around her. Hermione could feel every pair of eyes in the class glued to her as she strode to the door, and with a final glance at her stunned Transfiguration teacher she said, "Good day, Professor," and walked out of the classroom.

Hermione felt a great sense of satisfaction as she sauntered down the corridor with an unexpected free period before her — but the feeling didn't last for long. Minutes later she was in the girls' bathroom and could have easily been mistaken for Moaning Myrtle as her emotion, always so close to the surface these days, burst from her uncontrollably.

But she felt resentment more than anything else, toward Remus, toward herself, toward the tears that kept spilling down her face. She didn't want to cry anymore. She wanted to grab Remus by the front of his robes and force him to face her, wanted to tell him he was a fool for destroying the rose, for walking away, for avoiding her. . . .

How could he treat her this way after the way he'd kissed her that night in her dormitory? He'd told her that had just been his wolfish impulses, but she didn't buy it. It had been more than that. She was certain of it. She was certain that there was a reason she affected him differently, more intensely than any other woman. There had to be.

She wiped away her tears in frustration. Why had she pushed him away? It had been her reflex when he'd bitten her, but she hadn't really cared that he'd been a bit rough, or that he may or may not have been being influenced by the wolf, she'd just been overjoyed to feel his kiss again. But she'd ruined it, ruined everything again, and she cursed herself for breaking that kiss. Maybe if she hadn't things would have gone differently that night.

After reining in her emotions the best she could, she washed her face and momentarily debated skipping D.A.D.A. today because her heart broke a little bit more every time she was before Remus and he did all he could to avoid her gaze. Then, in another surge of anger, she decided against skipping the lesson because why should she make things easier for him by not showing up to class?

Hermione settled in her usual seat in D.A.D.A. a short while later, but unlike the previous couple of lessons with Remus she did not sit there with her gaze downcast, wanting to disappear into her surroundings to avoid the glances her peers cast her way, curious about her unusual behavior and lack of participation and the obvious rift between her and her professor. Instead she ignored the stares and grins from her classmates, who seemed impressed by her outburst in Transfiguration earlier, and kept her gazed fixed intently upon Remus. She was sure he could feel the glare of her scrutiny as she studied him, his eyes still shadowed from his transformation last week, his usually relaxed and friendly demeanor subdued and slightly strained.

And as she took him in she knew he was right when he'd told her he wasn't the same person he'd been when he was seventeen. He was different in some ways. He was even more guarded now than he'd been in his youth, more stubborn and bitter when it came to matters concerning his lycanthropy. But it wasn't surprising. She didn't blame him. He'd been through a lot in his life, experienced a lot of loss and pain and hardship.

And he'd simply lived more. In every respect. She was almost certain she'd been his first girlfriend in the past, but who knew how many women he'd been with the last two decades. And how did she compare to them? How _could_ she compare? Why would he, who could draw the likes of women as attractive as Vivienne, be interested in someone like _her_ , his annoying know-it-all, bushy-haired student? Was she a fool for believing she was somehow special to him?

 _No_ , she told herself firmly, forcing aside her pestering doubts. Whatever Remus had said, she refused to believe he didn't have feelings for her. Because she knew in her heart that he felt what she felt. He felt the same about her now as he had in the past. Like Dumbledore had once told her: the circumstances between them might be different now, but Remus's heart was the same.

He had lied when he'd told her he didn't have feelings for her. She knew in her gut he'd lied. Because he'd been overwhelmed with all that he'd learned that night and he'd panicked. He'd been afraid. He'd only pushed her away because it was his instinct, because he thought he had to do due to their situation, because he thought it was best. He'd told her — warned her — on Valentine's Day that he would do this, that he would stay away from any girl he loved because he'd want better for her.

But what about what _she_ wanted? Didn't that matter at all?

Her indignation that no, it apparently did _not_ matter to him, gave her the nerve to stay after class and finally face Remus for the first time since he'd walked out on her.

While the rest of her classmates filed out of the classroom, Neville and Dean hung back as they talked to Remus in the corner of the room where they'd been practicing spells. Hermione hung back as well, telling Ginny to go on without her.

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked, glancing uncertainly between her and their professor.

"I'll be fine," Hermione assured her. "We have to talk sooner or later."

She couldn't let things go on like this, couldn't let him keep pushing her away. She had to salvage their friendship at least, until she could make him see sense.

Ginny departed from the classroom and Hermione lingered by Remus's desk while he spoke to her classmates. He didn't look her direction, but she could tell he knew she was there, waiting for him, by the way he tensed slightly.

Then, when Neville and Dean went on their way, Remus reluctantly headed toward her. His step faltered, though, when his gaze shifted to the desk she was leaning against. His eyes flicked to hers and the memory of the time they'd kissed passionately atop that very same desk passed between them. Remus quickly looked away from her again as her face heated and she stepped away from the table in a hurry.

Remus strode around to the other side of the desk, his mouth tight. "Do you have a question regarding the lesson?" he asked without looking at her, entirely focused on gathering a stack of papers into his briefcase.

"No. I . . . I was just wondering when we were going to discuss what we'll be doing in Defense Club tomorrow. Or are you going to cancel it again just so you don't have to see me?"

Hermione thought she saw Remus flinch at the slight edge that had crept into her voice as she'd asked the question. He said quietly, "I'm not canceling."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Good. We'll be taking our N.E.W.T.s soon and we need the practice now more than ever."

"Actually, I wanted to speak to you about that, Hermione," he said, closing his briefcase and dragging his gaze to her. "I thought with N.E.W.T.s coming up, it would be best for me to release your obligation as my assistant. That way you don't have to come to all the Friday meetings and it'll give you more time to study for your exams."

"I'm not leaving Defense Club," Hermione said, hurt and resentment rising in her at the suggestion. "I need the practice as much as anyone else."

"You don't. If you had to take your exam today, you'd easily achieve 'Outstanding.' And I — I just think it would be best for you and I to . . . put some distance between us."

She frowned at the distance he'd subtly put between them moments ago, the desk standing between them, reminding her of his teacher status, one of the reasons he'd given her why they couldn't be together — one of the _excuses_. She decided to use one of his other excuses to her own advantage.

"I don't see why we need to. You think I was just being influenced by the rose," she argued, "so now that you've destroyed it, now that it's gone, so are my feelings for you, right?"

His brow flickered slightly. After a long moment, not quite meeting her eyes, he said, "Right."

Her chest tightened — he'd destroyed the rose. She hadn't wanted to believe he would, but if he truly thought it was dangerous, then he would consider it his responsibility to do so. He was their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after all. Still, the loss of the rose, of what it represented. . . .

She shoved her devastation aside for the time being, willing away the threat of tears. They wouldn't help. She knew the best thing she could do right now was to attempt to _reason_ with Remus.

"Then you don't have anything to worry about, do you?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I know there can be nothing romantic between us." Not yet, anyway. "But I also know you need my help with Defense Club. There are too many students. You can't help them all on your own. We have to work together for _their_ sake."

She saw the hesitation in his eyes as he weighed the truth in her words.

"You're right," he said finally. "But we . . . there needs to be clear boundaries between us."

"I understand." She'd expected that so instead of feeling hurt she just took a breath of relief for the small victory. "So . . . what are we doing tomorrow?"

* * *

As Remus struggled through his brief meeting with Hermione regarding Defense Club plans, trying hard not to succumb to the memories of kissing her, he knew it was a bad idea to continue working with her, however minimally. But what was he supposed to do? She was right. He needed her help. He couldn't fail his students and McGonagall now just because he was uncomfortable with their situation.

He loosed a heavy sigh when he retired to his quarters that evening and underwent his daily struggle to resist the lure of Hermione's scent, the illusion of her presence that the rose on his bedside table gave him.

He'd lied to Hermione. He hadn't gotten rid of it or destroyed it like he'd made her believe. Not only because he knew it wasn't really cursed — he'd sensed from the first time he'd held it that its magic was pure — but because he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Even though he was wary of it, he couldn't bring himself to part with the rose, much less destroy it, because it would be like destroying a piece of her, a piece of himself. He didn't understand its magic but knew it was somehow inherently linked to them.

He thought back to what she'd told him about the rose, how she'd claimed it hadn't influenced her or her emotions. She'd said she had feelings for him long before he'd ever given her the flower. If that were true . . . since when had she had these feelings for him? And why would she have ever set her eyes on him in the first place? Those lovely eyes of hers that had once looked at him with longing and which now held resentment when they met his gaze.

Yet while he was filled with regret that things couldn't be different between them, regret for lying to her about the rose and his feelings, he knew he had to do this. Even if she ended up hating him for it. He was doing the right thing.

Wasn't he?


	39. Chapter 39

Hermione was glad Ginny had convinced her to go to Hogsmeade Saturday because for the first time in what felt like a long time she found herself genuinely smiling. Harry and Ron had surprised them by showing up at the Three Broomsticks, and now they, along with Neville and Luna, were gathered around a table, drinking butterbeer and laughing and sharing their post-graduation plans.

Ginny was telling them all about the scout that was coming to watch her play at the final Quidditch match. "Can you believe it? Who knows, maybe I'll be training with the pros this summer. I can't wait for graduation."

"I'm very excited too," Luna said cheerily. "I'm leaving the day after graduation to go on an expedition with my father. He's hoping to discover a new magical creature as a graduation gift to me."

Neville wasn't as excited as the girls. When asked about his plans for the summer, he said, "I haven't looked that far ahead yet. I've mainly been concentrating on studying so I can pass all my N.E.W.T.s. But eventually I think I'd like to teach Herbology. Professor Sprout says she's retiring soon, so I thought maybe I could take over here at Hogwarts."

"You'll make a fine teacher, Neville," Hermione said with a smile.

"You could be a teacher too if you wanted," he told her. "You'd be excellent. You're really good in Defense Club."

"Nah, she won't be a teacher," Ron chimed in, shaking his head. "Hermione's going to join the Ministry and save the world, one house-elf at a time."

"And then she'll take over the world as Minister for Magic," Harry said with a grin.

Ginny laughed. "Wow, Hermione, world domination! Your future is looking bright."

Hermione's smile was forced now. Lately, she'd been contemplating her future with much less certainty and enthusiasm than she once had.

"I'm going to order another butterbeer," she said. "Anybody else want anything?"

Harry followed her when she headed toward the bar. Alone for the first time today, he asked her, "So how are things going? You know, with you and Remus."

"Not so great," she replied, trying to keep the heaviness she felt in her heart out of her voice. "After he found out what happened between us in the past . . . we didn't speak for a while. He — he reacted the way I feared he would. But I suppose things have gotten a little better between us recently. We're talking again."

It was true that they were talking again, but calling this an improvement was a bit of a stretch because they only spoke to each other when absolutely necessary, like when it came to Defense Club or academic matters. Overall, Remus was as distant with her as ever.

"Listen, Hermione," Harry began tentatively, "I was thinking about talking to Remus. Maybe I could —"

"No. Please don't talk to him about me, Harry. I don't think that would help. I think it'd just make him more uncomfortable."

"But he's being stupid, Hermione."

"He's not. He's just . . ."

"Being stupid."

"It's complicated, Harry. But things really are getting better between us. I just hope with a little more time we can at least be friends again."

Harry didn't press the matter further as the pair loaded up on drinks and rejoined their friends.

Later that afternoon, after Harry and Ron had gone, Hermione and Ginny decided to visit Honeydukes before they returned to Hogwarts. Hermione wandered around the shop, searching for something to take home to her parents next week for the Easter holiday. She was looking through some of the caramel treats when she heard a woman's voice from nearby utter Remus's name. She paused to listen.

"It would be wonderful if things worked out between you two," the witch said. "He's such a nice man."

"Indeed," agreed a second woman's voice. Hermione's eyes widened when she realized who it belonged to — Vivienne. She'd completely forgotten that she worked here. "I'm actually planning on going up to the castle and surprising him after I finish up here, Auntie."

"Oh, that's lovely, dear," the other witch replied.

That was not lovely. That was far from being lovely.

After Vivienne's aunt went on her way, Hermione stepped into the next aisle behind Vivienne, a feeling of intense displeasure and unfamiliar ferocity overwhelming her as she took in the sight of the curvy blonde woman with the perfect hair, and said to her, "You're wasting your time."

Vivienne looked over her shoulder, a bored expression on her face. "Excuse me?"

"You're wasting your time with Remus. He doesn't want anything to do with you."

Vivienne shoved the sweets in her hand carelessly onto the shelf before spinning around to face Hermione. "Who are you? No, wait — I remember. You're one of his students, aren't you? Shouldn't you be referring to him as 'Professor Lupin'?"

"What I call him is none of your concern. And neither is he."

Vivienne arched an eyebrow. "I beg to differ on that."

"Stay away from him," Hermione blurted.

"Why should I?"

"Because he doesn't want to get involved with you."

"And why are you getting involved in your professor's personal life?"

"Because he's — he's a friend of mine."

Vivienne looked Hermione up and down with piqued interest. "Don't tell me that you and Remus . . ." Her eyebrows raised high over her casually assessing eyes. "Huh. I never would have imagined Remus to be the type to abuse his authority like that."

"He isn't abusing his authority!" Hermione said, horrified at the insinuation.

"Of course he's not," Vivienne replied coolly. "He wouldn't be interested in a little schoolgirl like you."

"Well, he despises women like you!"

Vivienne's eyes flashed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know full well what I mean. Women like you who only care about how the full moon affects him — he hates it."

"Is that what he told you?" Vivienne stepped closer and continued in a quieter, taunting tone. "Because every time we're together I get the distinct impression that Remus _can't get enough_ of a woman like me. He seems to thoroughly enjoy finally being with someone who understands his true nature and isn't afraid to give him what he needs. You do know what I mean, don't you?"

Hermione didn't answer. She felt sick.

Vivienne flashed a nasty smile and went on, "Perhaps not. No doubt you've never been with a werewolf before." She looked her over once again, disdainfully, and added, "You've probably never even been with a man. Your inexperience is painfully obvious. You're just a little girl and what Remus wants is a _woman_."

"Hermione?" Ginny said, appearing around the corner. "There you are! Ready to go?"

Hermione was more than eager to leave. She managed to throw Vivienne a contemptuous look before stalking off with Ginny, but once she was out of Vivienne's sight her eyes burned with tears.

"I'll wait for you outside," she murmured to Ginny and hurried out of the shop while her friend paid for her sweets.

When Ginny joined her a minute later she asked worriedly, "What's wrong? What happened? Who was that woman?"

With a hand shaking slightly with her fury at that hateful witch, Hermione brushed away her tears. "Vivienne."

" _That's_ Vivienne?" Ginny said in surprise. "Oh. Well. What — what did she say to you?"

Hermione told her and Ginny shook her head.

"Don't listen to her, Hermione. She's just an awful, vile woman. Don't believe a word she said."

"But she's right, Ginny — I am just a little schoolgirl! I should have graduated already, but I didn't, and I'm still here at Hogwarts, and even if Remus didn't hate me for what I did in the past, he still w-wouldn't —"

"Stop, Hermione. Remus doesn't hate you. It's obvious that he's as unhappy as you are with this estrangement between you two, it's just — well, you being his student does complicate matters, but not for long — you'll be graduating in a couple of months, remember? And you're not a little girl. Vivienne is just jealous. Don't let what she said get to you. Remus will come around. He's just a little . . . conflicted right now."

"It's the dubite," Hermione said, a memory rushing back to her at Ginny's words.

"What?"

"On the train ride to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year . . . Luna said she thought Remus might not come back to teach because he had a dubite — a creature that latches itself onto a person's chest, right over his heart, and denies him from finding peace and happiness. She said these creatures are especially attracted to werewolves because of their dual nature, and they keep them in a conflicted state as long as they're latched to them."

"So you believe in this dubite thing?" Ginny said, looking skeptical. "Do you remember how Luna said to get rid of them?"

"A special potion, I think. But no, of course dubites aren't real creatures. Remus's dubite is his lycanthropy."

She knew his affliction was the root of the problem, the underlying reason for all his hesitance. But there was no special potion, no cure for lycanthropy, and no way to stop the full moon from appearing and awakening the wolf inside he loathed and feared so much.

But then an idea struck her. Maybe there _was_ a way. . . .

She played around with the idea in her mind that night while keeping an eye on the Marauder's Map to make sure that Vivienne hadn't dared come to the castle as she'd told her aunt she would. Then, over the next few days, Hermione worked to bring her idea to life.

Finally, on Wednesday evening, after testing her idea one last time, Hermione decided it was time to show Remus.

* * *

On Wednesday evening, Remus found himself in the atmospheric and stiflingly warm Divination classroom. He didn't know exactly how it had happened. He'd been distracted at dinner, wondering where the absent Hermione was, and had unwittingly accepted Sybill Trelawney's offer to crystal gaze for him. When he realized what he'd agreed to, he hadn't been able to think of a way to backtrack fast enough, so now he sat in a chintz armchair across from Trelawney as she discerned his future.

He wondered what 'prediction' his colleague was brewing up. No doubt some mysterious and catastrophic event, perhaps his death. He knew morbid premonitions were her forte.

In her most impressive misty voice, Trelawney revealed the images and symbols she saw in the crystal ball.

"What does that mean?" he asked, politely playing along.

" _Passion_."

"I'm sorry?" he said, taken aback.

"Romance is looming near. I see a witch . . . brunette . . . intelligent . . . living here at Hogwarts. Hmmm . . . could she be —?"

"No." Remus stood up in a hurry.

Trelawney blinked at him.

"Er, I mean to say, I just remembered I — I have something I need to go do. Right now." Not the most sophisticated excuse he could have given, but it would have to do. "Thank you for the reading."

"Don't you want to know who the woman is?" Trelawney asked, losing the misty quality in her voice and breaking her mystique.

"I'd rather not."

"Well, she looks an awful lot like my dear friend Olivia," she told him anyway.

Remus paused on his way to the door, glancing back at her in surprise. "Professor Avila?" Trelawney nodded and he relaxed. "Good evening, Sybill."

With a sigh of relief, he descended from the Divination classroom, immensely grateful that his colleague was not a particularly gifted Seer and had not seen Hermione in her crystal ball.

As for himself, he saw Hermione everywhere. More often, though, she appeared to him only in his mind rather than in actuality, for every incident that occurred these days triggered a memory of his time with her in the past, and every corner of the castle was connected to some experience he'd had with her. Everything was a cruel reminder of the incredible happiness he'd experienced for a fleeting time in his youth. It almost felt like it had been an entirely different life, a life that perhaps could have belonged to him in another time and in other circumstances, but a life that could never be his now.

Remus walked alone miserably along the seventh floor corridor that he had often strolled with Hermione once upon a time ago. She appeared in his mind's eye, striding towards him from the other end of the corridor. She would come and take his hand and they'd spend the rest of the evening together before he'd walk her to her dorm and kiss her goodnight, impatient for the next day to arrive so he could be with her again.

The distance between them was closing fast and Remus's step faltered. He suddenly realized that the vision before him wasn't a memory or a daydream. Hermione was really heading towards him. He quickly schooled his features to conceal his rueful longing as she walked up to him.

"Remus — there's something in the Room of Requirement you need to see right away."

"What is it?" he asked in concern at the urgency in her tone.

"You need to see it for yourself. I'll show you where. Please — it's important."

Remus followed her the short distance to the Room of Requirement, wondering what was in there, if it was some danger.

Hermione bit her lip as she paused outside the door. Then she said, "You should know before we go inside that what you're about to see in there won't affect you."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see in a moment. Just remember that you won't be affected, all right?"

He nodded, bemused.

When she led him inside the Room of Requirement, they could have been stepping through the great oak front doors and out of the castle, for the room had transformed itself into the school grounds. He tread on soft earth and breathed in the brisk night air as he glanced around the familiar setting, wondering exactly what Hermione wanted to show him. Then his attention drifted upward, drawn by what was lighting the landscape before them — the full moon.

Terror gripped him.

"It won't affect you," Hermione quickly reminded him. "It's okay. I made sure it wouldn't influence you in here."

She was right. He wasn't experiencing any of the tremors or pain that usually accompanied his monthly transformations. He was still human, still Remus. He also remembered that it wasn't yet time for his transformation. The full moon was still over a week away. How, then, was the moon full tonight?

He peered up at the silver sphere shining above them, stunned by its early appearance and its lack of power over him. His shock turned to amazement when he realized Hermione must have made this so.

He looked over at her. "You — you did this?"

She nodded.

Remus stared at her, speechless, remembering how she'd once apologized for showing him an illustration of the full moon in a book she'd been flipping through and saying it was beautiful. He'd told her not to worry about it, that he thought the full moon beautiful as well but just wasn't able to appreciate it the way he used to.

But right now he could.

Warmth filled his heart at Hermione's gesture, and he turned away before she could see his rush of affection for her.

She followed him as he headed down toward the lake, the water rippling with the reflected silvery glow of the moon rising in the sky. He stood near the lake's edge, filled with complete awe as he beheld the spectacular sight before him. It had been over three decades since he'd been able to see the full moon in all its splendor through these human eyes, without pain or fear or dread clouding his estimation of this beauty in nature, of this magic.

He remembered the story his mother had told him when he was very young, a story he'd once repeated to Hermione in this room before a Defense Club meeting, about a boy who was afraid of the dark and the monsters that lurked in the night, waiting to prey on kids like him. The boy soon overcame his fear when his friend told him there was no need to be afraid because even though there was nothing but darkness sometimes the unfailing moon would gradually appear and lighten the gloom with its magical glow and protect them from the dangers of the night.

Before he'd been bitten Remus had believed the story, had believed that the moon was beautiful and magical, a beacon of hope and a reminder of the good even when the world went dark and filled with fear. He'd regarded the full moon in wonder as a small child, and he was able to admire it with that same innocence now.

And all thanks to Hermione.

He'd fallen in love with her twice in his life, and gazing at her now, her profile gorgeously illuminated by the full moon that she had rendered harmless for him, it was easy to understand why.

"Hermione . . ."

She turned to him and he wanted to speak, wanted to tell her how much he loved her for this, how much he loved her for everything she was, but his voice failed him.

So he moved instead.

In one swift stride he closed the distance between them, and in that heartbeat he could see the anticipation grow in her eyes, could hear the hitch in her breath, could feel the patter of her pulse as he wrapped his arm around her waist, his own starved heart jumping out of his chest as he pulled her into his embrace.

And like the first time he'd kissed her so long ago, he felt the magic spark as their lips met, a magic that ignited his soul, only this time it was even more powerful than before. And the familiar feel of her kiss, of that breathtaking contact, that special connection, drove him to fully forget his reservations. A sense of urgency stole over him and he kissed Hermione with hunger and deep sincerity, and he could feel in her kiss how much she'd been aching for him these past several months. He could feel just how much he'd been missing her too all this time, how strongly he'd been yearning for this moment to come.

Only when he needed to catch the breath she'd stolen from him did he pull away from her lips, but he held her close, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to break the magic still tingling everywhere their bodies touched. He gazed down at her, dazed and overjoyed — over the moon. Her chest was heaving like his own as she peered back up at him, her eyes glittering with the moonlight. He gently wiped away the tears that escaped them — happy tears, he was relieved to see, not like the ones he'd been causing her the last few weeks.

"Remus," she whispered, tightening her clutch on his shirt. "Please . . . tell me this isn't another dream."

He raised his eyebrows — another? Did that mean she'd dreamt of him before? He couldn't believe it. The girl he'd thought was a dream had dreamt about _him_.

"This isn't a dream," he assured her, stroking her cheek. She glanced down at her hands, unfurling her fingers and splaying them on his chest. But even though she was touching him, feeling his solid flesh, she still didn't look entirely convinced he was real. "If you like, I can pinch you to prove it."

She gave him a small, breathy chuckle. "I'd much rather you kiss me again."

Remus wondered what he'd ever done to deserve to have this girl in his arms, to hear her say those words and see her gaze at him the way she was. He softly pressed his lips to her cheek where another tear had fallen, gently kissing it away. Then he brushed his lips against hers and murmured, "I've dreamt of you too."

He felt her heart swell inside his chest. Then she crushed her lips to his, her arms sliding around his neck, and it had been too long since he'd been filled with such an invigorating joy as this. The part of himself that until recently he hadn't even known existed, the part that had died when Jean left and been forgotten along with his memories, perished for so many years, was resuscitated now. Her kiss was revitalizing him while awakening some of his deepest fears.

But he would disregard those fears tonight. The moon in the sky was shining a bright, magical light over the world around them, so he would kiss Hermione and lose himself in this beautiful bliss, and like in the story his mother had once told him, he'd bottle up the moonbeams and save them for the dark nights he knew were still to come.


	40. Chapter 40

The moonlit sky and the whisper of a cool breeze caressing his face disoriented Remus when he awoke. He blinked at the lake stretching before him, the surrounding forest. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. But when he turned to the girl curled up beside him on the bed of grass, lying cozily beneath his coat, he smiled.

Hermione had dozed off too. He wondered how long they'd been asleep. It didn't matter. He'd be perfectly happy to stay there with her like this for the rest of the night. For the rest of his nights. He drank in the sight, the feel of her nestled against him, unable to remember a time he'd ever felt so content, so calm, so at peace.

The feeling of calm didn't last long for long, however. As he reached out a hand to stroke her hair his watch caught the moonlight and he started when he glimpsed the time. The night around them was deceiving. It was already morning and he should have been up an hour ago.

"Hermione," he murmured, gently trying to rouse her. "Hermione . . ." She only snuggled closer to him and mumbled something he couldn't make out. He tried again. "Hermione, we're going to be late to class."

Her eyes flew open at that, and he couldn't quite suppress his grin as she sat up with a gasp, his coat sliding off her. "What time is it?"

"We'll make it on time if we hurry," he assured her and helped her to her feet.

She hastily straightened out her clothes and brushed off the grass clinging to her, but when he turned to her again after brushing himself off and gathering his coat he found that her urgency had diminished. Her eyes focused on him and her lips curved into a slow smile. "Good morning, Remus."

A warm smile of his own spread across his face. "Good morning, Hermione." And it was a good morning indeed. Last night had been incredible, even if he was a bit achy and stiff from sleeping on the ground and itchy from the grass. He picked a twig out of Hermione's hair and brushed back her unruly tresses. When he made to smooth his own tousled hair, she stopped him.

"I like your hair like this." She raked her fingers through it, ruffling it again. "It makes you look like a mischievous Marauder up to no good."

If she only knew what sort of mischief was running through his mind right now. Perhaps the kiss he gave her next gave her an inkling of his mischievous thoughts, but unfortunately he didn't have time to act on them. She made a small noise of protest when he cut their kiss short.

"We need to go," he muttered and took her hand in his.

As they started toward the castle she said, "Too bad we don't have time for breakfast."

Remus frowned. "We never did make it to the kitchens, did we?" Last night he'd recalled that she hadn't had dinner and suggested they take a trip to the kitchens, but. . . .

"No, we got a bit . . . sidetracked."

Remembering vividly what had sidetracked them, he glanced down at her lips, swollen from too much kissing, and seductively so.

"You're very distracting," he told her playfully, and her eyes gleamed at the words she'd once said to him. "I'll go now and grab you something to eat."

"You'll be late to class."

"They can't start without me."

She grinned, but said, "Don't worry about it, Remus. I can wait until lunch. Anyway, we're not allowed to eat in class. Professor Avila would just give me another detention."

She was probably right about that. He'd heard Olivia was very strict and rather unpleasant to deal with sometimes. "She's always been a bit uptight and demanding from what I remember of her."

"Did you know her when you were a student?"

"A bit. She was a prefect like me, but a couple of years younger and a Ravenclaw. I remember she took her prefect duties very seriously, so I can imagine what she must be like now."

"She hates me. I don't know why."

"Interesting. Because the two of you are similar in a lot of ways —"

Hermione halted in her tracks, mouth agape in horror and offense at being compared to her Transfiguration professor. "Are you calling me uptight and demanding?" she demanded.

"No. Of course not," he said, restraining a chuckle. But then he shot her an oblique glance and added, "Although . . ."

Remus was delighted to hear Hermione's laughter again as he teased her along the way up to the castle — a bright and lovely sound that he, until last night, hadn't heard in a long time.

As they approached the door leading back to the school, however, he and Hermione quieted, their smiles fading. Their steps slowed, becoming heavier, reluctant. It was as if they were beginning to wake from a blissful dream and the reality of their situation suddenly came rushing back to them like a dash of ice-cold water to the face.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked as they paused before the door.

What _were_ they going to do? That matter hadn't come up in their conversation last night. He hadn't purposely avoided the subject, though perhaps he had on a subconscious level steered clear of it so as not to spoil the moment. Because for once in his life he had lived in the moment, had forgotten everything and acted on his feelings without worrying about the consequences.

He didn't have that luxury anymore.

"We . . . we'll talk later," he said. They didn't have time to figure it out right then.

"Tonight? Here?"

He shook his head. "We shouldn't. . . . Not here. Not in the castle. I think we should wait until the holidays to talk." There were only two more days of classes before school was out of session for Easter.

Hermione agreed to this, though she looked uncertain as she scanned his face. Then she pressed her lips to his — a lingering goodbye kiss he hated to pull away from.

"We should get going," he said. "Classes are about to begin."

She nodded. Knowing that students might be walking past in the corridor outside and they shouldn't be seen exiting the room together, she said, "I'll go first."

He began to pull open the door for her, but the thought of not being able to kiss her again, of not being able to hold her for who knew how long — he was already starving for her.

He shut the door once more and his lips captured hers. Mischief danced in his head again, and he could tell from the way she leaned her body into his, pressing herself flush against him, that she too wanted to continue where they'd left off last night. Which only made it that much harder to break their kiss. He barely managed to tear his mouth away from hers, but his arms seemed incapable of fully relinquishing her.

She seemed to be struggling just as much as he was to part from him. "Maybe . . . maybe we can stay?" she suggested, her hand running down his chest — a light caress that deeply stirred his desire, making his blood sing with the magic between them.

As tempted as he was, "We can't. If we both miss class . . ."

"You're right," she said and released a soft sigh. "I . . . I'll see you soon."

Her lips met his once more, soft and chaste this time, and it took an extraordinary amount of willpower to keep himself from holding her back again as she slipped out the door.

Remus followed her out of the Room of Requirement a minute later and immediately wished he could go back inside. The contrast between the dreamy silvery-blue hues of the moonlit night he was leaving behind and the harsh glare of day he was stepping into was jarring. Sunlight, bright and sobering, streamed through the windows as he walked along the corridor, and his good sense came beating down upon him along with it, hurtling back to him like a Bludger to his chest, like a Beater smacking him upside the head with his bat.

What had he done? Last night . . . he shouldn't have. He could get fired for this. . . .

The guilt twisting and clawing at him briefly gave way to paranoia when he came across Professor Avila and Flitwick on his walk to class and they shot him peculiar looks as they greeted him in passing. He feared they somehow knew what he'd done, could tell just by looking at him what had happened between him and Hermione last night, and he was going to be fired. But then he assured himself that they couldn't possibly know, and he realized they'd only been noting his disheveled hair with fleeting curiosity. He dragged a hand through it, fixing it as best he could before stepping into his classroom.

He was distracted all throughout the lesson, and was even more so during his next class with the seventh year Gryffindors. He couldn't look at Hermione, yet he couldn't _not_ look at her, couldn't keep his thoughts from slipping back to last night and wishing he was alone with her again in the Room of Requirement.

Anxious as he was, he was grateful she didn't stay after class. Because as much as he wanted to be with her, as much as a little reckless part of him desperately wanted to continue seeing her secretly and thought he might be able to get away with it without anyone finding out — he was a Marauder after all and had spent a good deal of time during his school years sneaking about the castle — he knew there could be nothing between him and Hermione while she was his student. He had to wait until she graduated.

But graduation was still nearly three terribly long months away, and he'd already been apart from her for far too long — it would be impossible to stay away from her, especially after last night.

Especially if she continued to seek him out like she did that evening.

His pulse quickened when he met her in the corridor outside his office.

"I — I know we're not supposed to meet until break, but I had to —" she started, but she broke off when he stiffened and subtly took a step back from her. Following his gaze, she spun around to see the headmistress and the Auror coming their way.

"All right, Remus?" McGonagall said, the formidable witch lifting a brow slightly as her eyes met his and utterly frayed his nerves. Was it just his paranoia kicking in again or was she looking suspiciously between him and Hermione?

"Wotcher, Hermione," Tonks greeted brightly, giving her a hug.

"Tonks — what are you doing here?"

"Came to pick up Remus," the pink-haired witch told her, glancing over at him with a wink. Upon seeing his blank expression, though, she asked, "Did you forget you and I were supposed to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight?"

"Of course not," he lied. It had in fact slipped his mind, but he was grateful for the excuse to leave the castle and postpone his talk with Hermione.

"It's too bad you can't come with us, Hermione. Or maybe —" Tonks looked to McGonagall, but the headmistress cut her off before she could even ask.

"Miss Granger should be in the Great Hall for dinner with the rest of the students."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, startled by the hard look the headmistress pinned on her. "I — I just had a question for Professor Lupin about the exam we took today," she explained, "but I — it can wait."

Before heading off to the Great Hall, Hermione glanced between him and Tonks in manner that surprised Remus — she didn't think there was something going on between them, did she? Tonks was about to get married to another man.

At the Three Broomsticks a short while later, Tonks was telling him all about this. He, however, was too preoccupied with his dilemma with Hermione to pay the proper attention to her excited chatter about her wedding plans. He was so distracted that he didn't notice her changing the topic of conversation. This became evident to Tonks when she described how Ron had sustained an injury during an Auror mission and he replied with, "That's wonderful."

"Is everything all right with you?" she asked him then, putting down her drink to examine him more closely. "You seem a bit distracted. Troubled."

"I'm fine. What were you saying about Ron?"

"Don't you try to change the subject. What's going on with you, Remus? Come on now, I've been doing all the talking. It's your turn." Remus began to shake his head, and Tonks added, eyes twinkling, "Remember, I'm an Auror. I have my ways of coaxing information out of you."

"It's nothing. I'm just in the midst of a — of a situation at work that I'm not sure how to deal with."

"What sort of situation?"

"I . . . I'm having trouble with a student."

"What's the problem?"

Remus was about to tell her again that it was nothing, but then he considered the witch before him. Tonks was probably the least judgmental person he knew. If he were to tell anyone about Hermione it would probably be her. Perhaps she'd be able to advise him on what to do. So, feeling desperate enough this evening to want to talk this out with someone, he decided to tell her. But where to begin?

"It's . . . complicated," he murmured, staring deeply into his glass of firewhiskey before downing it.

Tonks waited for him to continue, but he didn't know how to proceed. He probably shouldn't have started by saying his trouble had to do with a student. Perhaps he should have started by telling her he'd fallen for a woman but was hesitant to get involved with her because she was younger, and then later reveal that she also happened to be his student, a student named Hermione. Would that have made a difference, made him seem less . . . dishonorable? Would waiting to be with Hermione until after she graduated make any difference, make it less likely that they'd be subjects of scandal and scrutiny as soon as their relationship became publicly known? He didn't think so.

He now regretted saying anything at all about the matter. But Tonks continued to press him, so he finally told her tentatively, "My student . . . she . . . she's a female student, and I — Well, she — er —"

He hardly knew what he was saying, just that he wasn't saying it right at all. Still, Tonks seemed to guess from his hesitance and awkwardness where this was going and her eyes went round. "Has she got a crush on you?" Then, to his astonishment, she giggled. "How cute!"

"Cute?" That was definitely not the word he'd use to describe his dilemma. "What — what do you mean by 'crush'?"

"You know, a schoolgirl crush. You're a young and handsome professor, it's not surprising that this could happen. These sort of crushes aren't that uncommon. When I was in school, a couple of friends of mine had crushes on Professor Flitwick for a while. They'd ask him really dumb questions during class, sort of competing for his attention, but it was in a funny way, like a silly game. I'm sure the crush this girl has on you is just as harmless, isn't it?"

"I . . . I suppose." Remus didn't know what to say.

"Then you shouldn't worry about it too much. It's just a phase. It'll pass soon enough and she'll leave you alone."

Was Tonks right? Could it be that what Hermione felt for him was merely a crush? It had felt like much more than that last night, but he wasn't sure what to think now. Which was more likely: she felt for him the way he felt for her, or she'd simply gotten a bit carried away with a schoolgirl crush?

His conversation with Tonks moved on to other things, but his mind didn't. As they strolled down the street after leaving the Three Broomsticks he remembered how he'd once overheard Ron teasing Hermione about her old crush on Gilderoy Lockhart, the D.A.D.A. teacher at Hogwarts the year before him — was this a pattern of Hermione's, then, to develop crushes on her new, young D.A.D.A. professors? Was what she felt for him just a phase that would pass shortly as Tonks had assured him? Would she leave him —

"George!" Tonks suddenly exclaimed, snapping Remus back to attention. He glanced around and spotted the Weasley striding down the road not far from them.

George turned to wave but didn't move to meet them. "Love to stop and chat," he called, "but I'm late for a date." He gave them a wink before disappearing into Honeydukes.

"Ooh, do you think he's going to see Hermione?" Tonks said, wiggling her eyebrows and making Remus's stomach squirm.

"What — what makes you think that?"

"They're dating, aren't they? I heard they went to the Valentine's Day dance together. Didn't you see them?"

Remus remembered how they'd danced and laughed together that night, how he'd caught them snogging in that classroom.

But he told Tonks, "I think they're only friends." That's what Hermione had told him anyway. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if George had entered Honeydukes not to just buy sweets for his date as he'd presumed but to use the secret passage in the cellar to sneak into the castle to see Hermione.

He shook the thought away. Hermione had told him there was nothing romantic between her and George. George had to be dating somebody else.

The nagging doubt persisted, however, and that night as he settled in bed Remus wondered what had really gone on between Hermione and George. She'd told him they'd only ever been friends, yet he'd caught them kissing not only at the dance but on Christmas Eve as well. It seemed to him there had been more than simply friendship between them.

As much as he disliked the idea of them together, though, he had to admit . . . George might be good for Hermione. And why wouldn't she be interested in him? He was funny and clever and charming and fun. And successful. Very successful. He could offer Hermione much more than he, a shabby old werewolf, ever could.

His brooding thoughts tainted his dreams that night. . . .

 _He was strolling hand and hand with Hermione through a garden of red roses glittering with magic, shimmering warmly like the stars appearing in the growing darkness above. A particularly gorgeous rose caught their attention. Hermione twirled it in her hand with admiration before presenting it to him._

 _"For you," she said. "Being with you has been incredible, Remus. These last two weeks have been the best of my life."_

 _Touched by her words, he kissed her soundly. Then they glided out of the garden and into the Great Hall where a flurry of dancing and laughing, of mirth and music greeted them. But as they walked through the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces, the laughter suddenly died. A hush fell over the room, and everybody went still._

 _Hermione's smile faltered as she glanced around. "Why are people giving us funny looks?"_

 _Remus surveyed their surroundings as well and found that everyone was indeed staring at them, their expressions ranging from shock to outrage to disgust._

 _"I think it's because of my costume," he told her. "It must look a bit scandalous for a professor to be dancing with a student."_

 _Rapid whispers ruptured the silence around them._

 _"I suppose it doesn't help that I'm dressed up like an old man and you look very young," he added. "Maybe I should lose the wig."_

 _The rumbling murmurs grew louder as Remus tried to remove his wig and failed, for what he thought was a wig wasn't really a wig at all. The graying hair upon his head was his own. He wasn't wearing a costume. . . ._

 _Looking very uncomfortable with all the attention, Hermione tugged on his hand. "Let's go."_

 _They_ _weaved their way quickly_ _through the_ _glaring and gawking_ _crowd in the Hall, dodging everybody's gaze as they searched for an exit. The talk around them was deafening now and unforgiving, and their search for a way out became frantic. Hermione released his hand to go on ahead of him. She finally found a door and hurried through. Remus followed moments later, stumbling into the next room just in time to see her running_ _into the waiting arms of George Weasley. . . ._


	41. Chapter 41

_Hermione collapsed onto the coat Remus lay for her on the grass by the lake, simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted by the torrent of emotions overwhelming her. She'd had no idea, had not dared even hope when they entered the Room of Requirement earlier this evening that any of this would happen, that Remus would kiss her and be by her side like he was now. Brimming with joy and giddiness and contentment, she beamed at the stars shining above them. The stars winked back._

 _Remus's fingers brushed hers. Feeling his stare, Hermione tore her gaze away from the gorgeous night sky to meet his and found he looked even more handsome than usual here bathed in the moonlight. He raised her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss._

" _Thank you, Hermione," he said softly. "For the moon."_

 _She thought tears might spring to her eyes with the emotion that surged through her at that moment, because before tonight she'd feared Remus would never again look at her the way he was now, feared he'd never again kiss her the way he did next._

 _But his lips met hers, soft and sweet and playful at first. Then he was kissing her in a way that made her heart race, her skin flush, her body feel weak and tingly and ache for more. So when he abruptly pulled away from her and the shock of the crisp night air replaced his heat, Hermione nearly whimpered at the loss._

 _She sat up, shooting him a questioning look._

 _"We should probably get going. It's late," he said a bit hoarsely._

 _"I don't want to go." It had been too long since they'd last been together and too long that she'd had to keep her distance. She didn't want to part from him so soon tonight. Remus only stared at her, uncertain, so she shifted closer. "I want to stay," she told him softly, and touched her lips to his._

 _She thought he might refuse and insist they should leave. But when she pulled away slightly from the light kiss she gave him, he leaned in again, his lips capturing hers once more, and she was soaring through the stars. . . ._

"Hermione, I'm super happy for you, truly," Ginny said, yanking Hermione out of the glorious memories she'd slipped into during Charms on Friday. "It's really wonderful about you and Remus and all — I mean, it took you two long enough — but you've _got_ to start paying attention."

Hermione's gaze swept over her friend and the small blue birds circling them, twittering and fluttering cheerfully and animatedly like in Disney Princess movies.

Ginny grinned at her look of surprise. "I never thought I'd have to say that to you, yet here you are, conjuring birds and pretty flowers, and casting a bunch of funny charms that have nothing to do with our assignment."

Ginny was right. She really did need to start paying attention. She needed to focus. N.E.W.T.s, the most important exams of her life, were just weeks away and she'd hardly studied the last couple days. Not that she hadn't tried, but she couldn't concentrate with Remus constantly on her mind, the ghost of his kisses tingling on her lips and the feel of his hand skimming down her waist —

Hermione swiftly thrust the memories into a special compartment in her brain she locked with several keys and a multitude of spells before she could lose herself in them again. She needed to get it together or her N.E.W.T.s scores would suffer the consequences and forever disappoint her.

Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines. She began grumbling about all the studying they had to do over the Easter holidays and how she didn't even know where to start. So in the Head Girl's dormitory after classes that day, Hermione showed her the study schedule she'd made and offered to help her create her own.

"What's happening here?" Ginny asked, pointing out the blank spaces in Hermione's schedule.

"Oh, well, I'm not sure when I'm meeting Remus, so I left some days more open and flexible."

"I see you left next Friday and Saturday evenings totally free. . . . Planning on rendezvousing in the Room of Requirement again? You should ask to borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak if you're going to be sneaking around."

"There won't be any sneaking around. I won't be at Hogwarts, remember?"

Hermione would be one of the few fifth and seventh year students who wouldn't be staying at the castle over the holidays to study for their exams. She had originally planned to but decided it would be better to go home. Remus wanted to meet her away from the school and it would be easier to do that this way.

Ginny smirked. "So you'll just be sneaking away from your parents, then."

Hermione hadn't really thought about that. She wouldn't necessarily have to sneak out of her house. She just wouldn't tell her parents where she was going or who she would be seeing. Because if they knew . . . how would they react when they found out about her and Remus?

She pushed that thought aside for now. That talk with her parents would come later.

"Sounds much more fun than studying," Ginny went on. "You know, I've heard some things about werewolves . . ." There was an impish gleam in her eyes and Hermione knew exactly where her friend was going with this.

"Remus and I are going to _talk_. We have to discuss some things before — before anything else happens."

"Right. The way you _talked_ in the Room of Requirement the other night."

A sheepish smile curled Hermione's lips. Between deeply stirring kisses she and Remus hadn't done much talking that night. At the time she hadn't minded in the least. Now part of her wished they had.

While she laughed and rolled her eyes at Ginny's continued teasing, she tried to ignore the nagging worry in the back of her mind. She'd sensed Remus's unease in class yesterday and wanted to talk, but they hadn't gotten the chance because Tonks had shown up.

Hermione supposed, though, that it was expected for him to feel a bit uncomfortable in class with her and then in front of McGonagall later. And it was expected that he, after what happened the last time they'd been alone together, would be hesitant to meet her again while she was still his student. She shouldn't overanalyze this, shouldn't worry. She should be happy and drop her doubts after the way he'd kissed her in the Room of Requirement because now he couldn't pretend he didn't have feelings for her anymore.

And because of that she was more willing than ever to fight for them to be together. She just hoped he was too.

Fortunately Ginny's teasing that afternoon helped ease her worries, and by the time they were heading to the last Defense Club meeting before the holidays Hermione was grinning like a fool in anticipation of seeing Remus. She already missed him and couldn't wait to be alone with him again.

She tried to tone down the smile plastered on her face when she entered the Room of Requirement and act normal, but she found she couldn't quite look directly at Remus for fear she would somehow give them away. Luckily for her, the two scarcely crossed paths during the busy meeting in which he worked with the seventh years while she helped the fifth years.

Her group of students was reviewing Stunning Spells that evening, so large silk cushions were strewn about the room to soften their landing when they got knocked out by their partners' spells. As she sidestepped one of the cushions she noted it looked rather inviting, much more comfortable to roll around on than the itchy grass the other night —

Hermione halted her thoughts in their tracks, reined in her imagination, and spent the rest of the meeting doing her best not to get caught up again in the wonderful memories this room held. She was only semi-successful. The meeting seemed to last an eternity.

Finally, though, the meeting came to an end, and she grinned when Ginny gave her a wink as she left the Room of Requirement with the other students. Only a small group of Ravenclaws dawdled behind. Losing her patience quickly and forgetting tact, Hermione practically shoved them out of the room so that she and Remus could be alone at last.

She turned toward Remus as she was closing the door behind the last of the Ravenclaws and met his eyes properly for the first time that evening. Warmth flooded her face, her body, at the unexpected intensity of his gaze, his green-gray eyes holding her in place even as a deep ache stirred within her, urging her to immediately erase the distance between them. When the door clicked shut behind her, the soft sound had the effect of a gun blast signaling the start of a race, and before she knew it Remus had her pinned against the door and was kissing her senseless.

Just as suddenly, however, he pulled away again.

She really wished he'd stop doing that.

"I'm sorry. The full moon . . ." he said, eyes dark and shadowed and edged with panic as he backed away from her.

As she regained her balance and composure after the rush of his kisses, she noted his face was a little paler than normal. The full moon was indeed only days away.

"Oh. I forgot," she said in disappointment, although she was unsure whether he was apologizing for the way he'd kissed her or because he had to stop. She was only sorry that he'd stopped. Did they really need to keep their distance when the full moon approached? Because she didn't really mind the way the wolf affected him.

It was obvious, however, that it made Remus uncomfortable.

He turned away from her, waving his wand to straighten out the room, and Hermione wondered if he was cleaning up to simply distract himself or to purposely get rid of the tempting cushions she'd been eyeing earlier. She sighed inwardly at their disappearance.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Remus said when he faced her again, only the faintest shadow of the wolf left in his gaze. "I forgot I was supposed to meet Tonks."

"How is she?"

"Very busy these days, but happy. Counting down the days till her wedding." He paused a moment, looking like he was mentally debating something, before he continued hesitantly. "We — we saw George in Hogsmeade. Tonks seems to think the two of you are involved."

"We're not. I told you we're only friends," Hermione said, surprised he could still think there was something more between her and George after recent events.

Remus nodded. "I know. I just . . . I wasn't sure."

He still didn't look very certain, which she supposed was understandable considering what he'd seen.

"I know you saw George and me kissing at the dance and at the Burrow during the Christmas holidays, but it wasn't what it looked like, Remus. We only kissed on Christmas Eve because we got stuck beneath the mistletoe — one of his and Fred's joke products. It was enchanted to keep us trapped there until we did. And we went to the dance only as friends. When we were in that classroom — I didn't know he was going to do that. He saw you coming on the map and started kissing me the second before you walked through the door."

She was grateful to see Remus's relief this time as he nodded his understanding, and she almost smiled at the hint of jealousy she glimpsed next when he said, "He seems to have an interest in you beyond that of pure friendship. He fancies you." The grumpy look that crossed his face was rather cute.

"He might have, but it was never anything serious," she assured him. "I think he was mostly just trying to help me when he kissed me that night." That's what George had told her anyway. Only a small part of his motivation had been because he was "a shameless opportunist taking advantage of the situation."

"Help you?" Confusion flickered across Remus's face. "How would that help you?"

Hermione realized too little too late that she maybe shouldn't have said that. "He — he was trying to help me with you," she explained tentatively. "Trying to help me figure out if you — if you might have any feelings for me."

He frowned slightly. "He was testing me, to see if I'd get jealous?"

It sounded rather awful and juvenile to Hermione now, to purposely try to make someone jealous, to play that sort of game. With a twinge of guilt she nodded, watching Remus closely to see if he was upset with her, but his expression was difficult to read.

Then he gave a small laugh, though there was little humor lighting his eyes. "He did say he was trying to rile me up."

Hermione wondered what more George had said to him after she'd left them alone in that classroom that had Remus punching him in response.

"I think he was trying to get a rise out of both of us, hoping it would help us realize our feelings for each other. At the time I thought you didn't — I thought you were with Vivienne."

"And I believed you were with George. That night . . . he did say he thought it might help. I just didn't understand what he meant."

"I don't know what else he said to you, and he might have taken things too far, but I do think he had good intentions. After he found out how I felt about you, he backed off and said he wanted to help me with you."

"He probably expected you'd soon get over this schoolgirl crush."

Hermione blinked. "S-schoolgirl crush?" she repeated, taken aback by his words. He seemed to have immediately regretted uttering them. "Is — is that all you think this is?"

"I didn't mean —" he began, but then he broke off, suddenly tense as his eyes darted to the door. A moment later there was a sharp knock and Professor Avila came through it.

Hermione, though, hardly spared her a glance, for she was staring at Remus incredulously.

"I'm glad you're still here," Professor Avila said to him. "Could I have a word?"

"Certainly." He returned his gaze to Hermione, his expression now inscrutable. "If that's all you needed, Miss Granger. . . ."

 _Miss Granger?_ Since when did he call her that?

"Yes, thank you for your help, Professor," she mumbled. But she didn't move. She just stood there, staring at him, struggling to hold in the indignation swelling inside her.

"Run along now, Miss Granger," Professor Avila shooed. "Students should be in their dormitories at this hour, not pestering their professors."

Hermione barely managed to restrain her glare for her Transfiguration teacher before doing as she was told and departing from the room.

Schoolgirl crush?

 _Schoolgirl crush?_

Was that really what Remus thought, that she was just a little schoolgirl with a silly little crush?

Hermione stomped down the corridor in furious disbelief as Vivienne's words from their confrontation at Honeydukes last weekend came rushing back to her: _He wouldn't be interested in a little schoolgirl like you. . . . You're just a little girl and what Remus wants is a_ woman.

Did he really think that way of her? How could he dismiss her and her feelings for him like that after all this time and after everything that had happened between them? Did he truly believe what she felt for him was simply a crush? Or was he just afraid that was all it was?

In her dormitory Hermione paced about her bedroom, fuming with her frustration with Remus and with Professor Avila for interrupting them. She couldn't leave their conversation hanging like this. She needed to talk this out with him right away.

Perhaps she did have reason to worry after all. Knowing Remus, he'd probably been overthinking everything the last couple of days and dwelling on every reason why he shouldn't have kissed her in the Room of Requirement the other night, starting with the fact that she was a _schoolgirl_.

She needed to talk to him as soon as possible. She needed to see him tonight. She might not get a chance tomorrow morning before she had to board the Hogwarts Express. So she kept watch on the Marauder's Map, waiting until Remus was in his quarters alone once again before marching over to his office and letting herself in.

She banged on the wall concealing the entrance to his private quarters, and when Remus opened the door it seemed every feeling of exasperation she'd experienced because of him and every frustration she'd ever held in exploded to the surface.

"You are a fool!"

"Hermione —"

"And a coward!"

"You can't come in here—"

"And an _arse_!" she cried, ignoring his protest and forcing him to back up into his sitting room. "I am _not_ some silly, infatuated schoolgirl! I am a mature and intelligent adult witch —"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have said that."

"Do you believe it?"

"I — No. _No_. I know you're intelligent and mature. But," he added warily, "you — you are still very young." She opened her mouth to give him a heated retort, but he continued before she could speak. "I think we have a lot to talk about, Hermione, but . . . not here. Please, let's wait until —"

"I don't want to wait!" she cut in, not caring to hear what he wanted to wait for, because hadn't they already waited long enough? "I thought we'd already established that age shouldn't matter! You know what they say: it's just a number!"

"It's not about the number."

"Then what is it about?"

"You're . . . well . . . inexperienced."

Hermione drew back from him, mortified, as Vivienne's taunting words echoed in her mind: _No doubt y_ _ou've never been with a werewolf before. You've probably never even been with a man. Your inexperience is painfully obvious. . . ._

They'd only kissed that night in the Room of Requirement — had Remus held back from anything more because he thought her inadequate? Unlike in the past there was a considerable gap not only in their ages but in their experience now. Was he disappointed by her obvious lack of it?

"I — I didn't think that would matter to you," she said.

"Of course it matters. It matters a great deal."

"Why should it?" she demanded, her temper rising again with her embarrassment. "Just because I'm — Just because I've never . . . been intimate with anyone —"

Remus tensed. "That — that's not what I meant," he said, lips barely moving as his face flushed slightly.

Hermione, meanwhile, blushed brilliantly. Remus averted his gaze and turned away from her, covering his mouth with his hand as he began to pace and leaving Hermione feeling as though she'd just made things worse.

After a long, awkward pause, she asked him, "What did you mean, then?"

He took several more strides before responding.

"I meant," he said, stopping his pacing to face her again, "that you and I are at completely different points in our lives. You're just beginning, Hermione. You're going to graduate soon and leave Hogwarts, and the life you've known thus far is going to change. You'll be moving on to bigger and better things and having new experiences, meeting new people. One of these people will be a smart and handsome young man, and whatever you feel for me now —"

"That won't happen," she interjected, dread knotting her stomach. Her fears were founded. He _had_ been dwelling on the reasons why they shouldn't be together. He was going to try to push her away.

"It's bound to happen, Hermione. And I — I don't want to hold you back in any way."

"You wouldn't. I've told you this isn't just some schoolgirl crush! I've had feelings for you for a long time, Remus, but it wasn't until Harry's birthday last summer that I realized it. You were leaving and I was upset because I wasn't sure when I'd see you again. And with graduation coming up, I — I'm starting to feel that same way now. Everyone keeps talking about their plans for the summer and for their future: where they want to go, what they want to do. . . . When I think of my future . . . I want you, Remus."

* * *

Remus had never felt so torn, so conflicted. Hermione wanted a future with him. . . .

He wanted so desperately to be able to give her that future, to give in to what his heart desired more than anything else . . . but wouldn't that be selfish of him?

He didn't know what to do, what to say. He wasn't prepared for this conversation. But Hermione wanted to talk and he had to be honest. So, heart heavy with regret, he told her, "We couldn't have a future, Hermione."

"Why not?"

"You know what I am. Being with me — it would only cause you problems, and it — it wouldn't be fair to you. I couldn't have a future with you or anybody else. I've known that since I was very young. I knew I couldn't lead a normal life, couldn't marry and have children and risk passing on my condition."

She shook her head. "I've told you before I don't agree with your view on this. I think werewolves have a right to pursue their happiness just like everybody else. And you _can_ marry. There's no law against it."

"But there's a stigma attached to me and my name, a stigma that would pass to you if we were to get involved. I'd tarnish your reputation. It would affect you both socially and professionally."

"I don't care about my reputation or what anyone else thinks!"

"You say that now but you don't know what it would be like. You've never experienced such a strong, widespread prejudice. It — it takes a toll on you."

"Being Muggle-born, I do have an idea of what prejudice and discrimination are like," she shot back.

"It isn't the same. Muggle-borns are only looked down upon by bigots and pureblood zealots. Werewolves are creatures from which nearly everyone recoils. Here at Hogwarts, where I've been under Dumbledore and McGonagall's protection, you don't see that so much, at least not openly. But outside the school gates is a different story. People can barely talk to me when they learn what I am. Society fears and shuns my kind and distrusts anyone associated with us."

"Society is changing. People's views are changing in regard to werewolves, and _you're_ the one who's helping make that happen!"

"Society isn't changing as much as you'd like to believe. On the whole, things are very much the same as they always have been, and any change in the future would be hard-won and gradual because the fear that fuels the stigma surrounding my kind is deeply ingrained.

"But the real problem, Hermione," he said, cutting to the heart of his fears, "the real problem is me. What I am won't ever change, and I . . . I don't think you realize how strongly you affect me, how great the danger I pose to you could be." He couldn't quite hold her gaze as he reluctantly explained, "When I'm with you, my impulses go haywire and I feel all mixed up, and I . . . I don't know what I'm capable of. I could never live with myself if I — if I ever lost control like Rosalind . . ."

He couldn't tell if the flicker of emotion that crossed Hermione's face was horror or something else, but he felt nauseous remembering the way Hugh had looked after his girlfriend had attacked him. And the thought that it could be Hermione. . . .

"That — that wouldn't happen, Remus. You're not like Rosalind. You're cautious and self-controlled. And you take Wolfsbane Potion — she doesn't."

"I've told you before, the potion doesn't help me when it comes to you. As for my self-control . . . it isn't as strong as I once believed. At least not when it comes to you. Everything is different with you. I'd never lost control before, but with you . . . I constantly feel like I'm on the edge of losing myself."

Like he'd felt earlier in the Room of Requirement, intoxicated by her scent and fixated on those delectable lips of hers, his hunger for her all-consuming; like he felt now, the wolfish impulses thrumming through him more difficult than usual to suppress with their emotions running high and everything within him at odds with each other.

He wished they could have had this talk after the full moon when her scent wasn't befuddling him, when it wasn't so difficult to keep his composure, though what happened with Hugh and Rosalind was a reminder that loss of control could be possible under any lunar phase if the wolf was sufficiently agitated and self-control gave way to instinct.

"And I have lost myself with you," he reminded her. "I — I've bitten you. I've realized how easily I could hurt you and infect you, and . . . I'm afraid . . ."

Terrified out of his mind was more accurate, terrified to get too close, to trigger his wolfish impulses in any way. How could a relationship between them work if he felt like this, constantly fearing? How could he be with her if he could hardly even be around her, couldn't touch her whenever the full moon approached without losing control?

"You didn't hurt me when you lost control. You wouldn't hurt me, Remus. I know you wouldn't."

"You can't possibly know that, Hermione. And neither could I." But just the possibility that it could be Hermione in St. Mungo's looking as mangled and bloody as Hugh had been — or worse. . . . He shook his head, his very bones cold with terror and guilt at the thought. "I . . . I couldn't take that risk. Not with you."

She bit her lip, tears shining in her eyes, and he didn't know if it was his feeling or hers but devastation crushed through him as he realized what his words meant. Everything within him seemed to crumble. This wasn't what he wanted, what he had planned to say coming into this conversation. But how could this have ended any other way? His hope that things could turn out differently between them had been delusional.

"So that's it?" Hermione said, voice trembling slightly but her gaze steady. "We can't be together?" She shook her head. "I should have known this would happen. After all, you d-destroyed the rose."

The edge in her voice, the fierceness of her glare — more hurt than anger or reproach — cut through him like a knife. She turned away, tears slipping down her face as she hugged herself, and he reached out, wanting to hold her, comfort her, but he couldn't touch her, and he had no right to anyway since this was all his fault. His hand fell back to his side. He'd never felt so awful. He hated that he made her cry. How many tears had she shed because him? Too many, and didn't that just prove she was better off without him?

"Hermione," he said quietly. "I — I'm sorry, but I think —"

" _No_ ," she said sharply, whipping back around, impatiently wiping away her tears. "I don't want to know what you _think._ I don't want to hear it!" she cried, making him flinch. "I don't want you to keep giving me all these reasons why you think we can't be together, I want you to tell me how you _feel_!"

"Hermione —"

"I want you to tell me how you felt when you kissed me in the Room of Requirement the other night! I want you to tell me how you felt when you gave me your mother's necklace! I want you to —"

"Please, Hermione," he said, wary of her touch and retreating as she stormed closer. "This — this is difficult enough —"

"You're the one who's making this difficult!"

"I'm only trying to do what's best for you —"

"What's best for me is being with you! Don't you understand? _I love you, Remus!"_

Before his mind could register what she'd just said, before his muscles could react, Hermione was kissing him, hard, fiercely, and he was back in the Room of Requirement with her under the stars; back in her dormitory, wolf desperate to claim what was his; back in the past, her touch like bluebell flames dancing across his bare skin. His careful restraint instantly melted away under the blaze she ignited in him, and he was no longer thinking but returning her kiss, matching her intensity, the hands that had been ready to prevent her touch moments before now pulling her into a tighter embrace.

He was losing himself in a burning bliss without even a whimper of a fight, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of intense emotions: her frustration and desperation and passion firing away with his violent fears and his desire, and something warm and swelling swirling throughout, fueling it all — their _love_.

It was too much.

His control snapped. He lost himself completely.

The wolf took over and everything became chaos, a blur. The whirlwind inside him manifested itself physically and he was in a frenzy, Hermione caught in the eye of his storm.

The jangling clatter of glass breaking rang through the room, but it didn't penetrate his lust-hazed consciousness. His every sharpened sense was attuned to her. He was drowning in her delicious scent, drunk with her breathtaking kisses, electrified by the feel of her soft skin beneath his touch, and delirious with the tickle of her sweet moan on his lips as they crashed into the bookshelf.

Books thudded to the floor around them, but he failed to notice with her legs around his waist and her fingers threading through his hair. Nothing existed in the world but her. Nothing mattered but pleasure and sensation and this fervor, this need, overtaking him, threatening to burn him alive if it were not satiated.

He burst through his bedroom door, her heartbeat thundering in his chest. She landed on the mattress with a soft bounce and a sharp intake of breath, and for a moment he paused there at the foot of his bed, taken by the seductive image of the girl before him — her parted lips, her eyes dark with desire, her wild hair and flushed skin and heaving breasts — before the alluring scent of her arousal snapped him back into action. Wolf impatient for release, he reclaimed her lips, fingers slipping beneath her skirt and grasping at her tights —

But then she was suddenly gone, out of his reach.

Suddenly he was soaring, hurtling backward through the air, _slamming_ against the wall.

The hard knock brought him back.

The rough impact cleared the lustful haze clouding his mind, chilled the fervor heating his blood, and Remus found himself crumpled on the floor, stupefied.

He rubbed the back of his aching head and blinked rapidly at the sight of Hermione scrambling out of his bed. Her eyes were wide and her face flaming as she whirled around, fingers hastily working to button up her shirt. He turned his gaze to where she'd been looking. Standing in the doorway, every line of her face etched with shock and fury and her wand still pointed at him, was Professor McGonagall.

* * *

 **A/N:** A cliffhanger for you because I know how much you love them!

Thanks so much for reading and for your patience when these chapters take me forever to get out. Thank you also to everyone who has left reviews the last several chapters. It's always wonderful to hear from you and get your thoughts on the story, but it's even more so now that we're getting close to the end.


	42. Chapter 42

McGonagall was beyond scandalized, beyond angry. The shock that had momentarily frozen her quickly gave way to her fury and she was absolutely livid.

Remus swallowed, face blanching. All the blood seemed to drain from him with the wave of guilt that surged through him, making him feel sick as if her were at sea, and dread dropped into his stomach like a boulder sinking him to the bottom of the ocean. He wanted to sink right through the floor, escape, but McGonagall's glare pinned him in place where he sat slumped against his bedroom wall.

"You . . . I cannot believe. . . . This — this is . . ." McGonagall spluttered, unable to find words sufficient enough to express her outrage.

"P-professor, I —" came Hermione's small, high voice. Her face was a brilliant pink as she faced McGonagall, clutching her unsuccessfully buttoned shirt closed with both hands.

Remus averted his gaze, and McGonagall snapped, "Silence, Miss Granger!"

The headmistress's anger did not diminish in the least as she turned her attention to the student he knew to be her favorite. If anything it seemed to flare. She fixed Hermione with a burning glare before returning her blistering gaze to him.

"To my office. Now," she ordered through gritted teeth, the hand she pointed toward the door shaking with her rage.

Remus numbly got to his feet, unable to speak. What could he say? He felt as small as he always felt when McGonagall's ire was directed at him — how many times had he and his friends gotten into trouble and sent to her office in his youth? Only this was much different, much worse than ever before because he was not a child or adolescent now but an adult, and what he'd just done was far more serious than pulling a prank or getting caught venturing into a restricted area of the school.

He forced himself to move and McGonagall stiffly stepped aside as he reached her and his bedroom door — only the door wasn't in the frame where it was supposed to be. It was completely off its hinges, lying broken on the floor as if it had been kicked open. Merlin's beard — had he done that in his frenzied state? He couldn't remember clearly — everything was a blur — but the look McGonagall shot him told him it certainly hadn't been _her_ who'd done it.

His eyes darted to Hermione, quickly examining her for any sign of injury. Thankfully she appeared unharmed, though he could feel her panic as strongly as he felt his own.

"P-professor —" she started again, turning back to McGonagall, but she was immediately silenced by another scorching look from the headmistress, her nostrils flaring at the brief glance he and Hermione had shared.

McGonagall again ordered him to her office and Remus obeyed at once, hurrying out of his bedroom only to have his stomach lurch again as he met more evidence of his loss of control scattered in the next room: the side table toppled over, the shelves in the bookcase broken, splayed books and shards of glass from a shattered vase on the floor, and small buttons sprinkled all about.

No wonder Hermione had been having trouble fastening her shirt.

He realized his own shirt was also partially unbuttoned and worked on them with fumbling fingers as he hastily made his way out of his quarters.

His head was spinning and pounding in pain as he moved through the darkened halls of the castle, his world spiraling and crashing down around him. He'd lost control again. The wolf had taken over. Now a mortified Hermione was standing before the headmistress, clinging desperately to her modesty as she struggled with the shirt he'd ripped open, and he was going to be fired. He was never going to teach again. He was probably never going to have a proper job again. . . .

In McGonagall's office Remus avoided the curious eyes of the ex-headmasters still awake in their portraits, especially those blue ones directly across from him, belonging to the headmaster who had changed the course of his life for the better twice when he needed it most, and who, along with McGonagall, was one of only two headmasters perhaps in the history of Hogwarts who would have allowed a creature like him into their school.

Only Dumbledore's kindness hadn't been without some strategy, without understanding how a werewolf indebted to him could prove useful to him in the future. The kindness McGonagall had shown him, on the other hand, was pure. And more than that, she had always treated him with respect, despite what he was, and perhaps even with a bit of affection. He remembered the rare break in her usual professionalism in his sixth year when she had offered him words of comfort after his mother had passed away.

And what had he done? He'd betrayed Dumbledore's trust in his youth and as an adult by being foolhardy and irresponsible and putting his students in danger; just as he'd betrayed McGonagall's trust now by getting involved with Hermione and blowing the second chance she had given him, the second chance that had put her own reputation at risk since unlike when Dumbledore had hired him everyone knew now that he was a werewolf and many parents and members of the wizarding community had fought hard against his appointment.

But McGonagall had fought for him.

Guilt burrowed deeper in his gut. He deserved what he was going to get.

He slumped in his seat, head hanging in his hands, before immediately straightening up again when McGonagall stormed into the office not a minute later. Some of the headmasters jumped in their portraits when she slammed her fists on her desk as she faced him.

In a trembling, ringing voice, she said, "Never — never in my career, or in recent Hogwarts history, has a professor engaged in this sort of misconduct and disgraced the school as you have tonight, Remus. I am appalled by what I just witnessed! You are a teacher, in a position of trusted authority, and I catch you in bed with a student!"

Gasps and mutterings broke out amongst the portraits, more eyes popping open from their pretend slumbers.

"She's a _teenager_ for Merlin's sake!"

McGonagall turned away from him as if she could no longer bear the sight of him and Remus burned with unbearable shame.

"I would never have believed that you . . ." McGonagall shook her head, her lips white as she began to stride briskly back and forth behind her desk. "I _didn't_ believe it when that woman from Honeydukes alluded to something like this at the Three Broomsticks the other night. But I should have known. She wasn't the first person to share with me their suspicions regarding the nature of your relationship with Miss Granger."

More gasps and intensified mutterings came from the portraits at the revelation of who he'd been caught with, while Remus racked his brains for who else could have known about them. 'That woman from Honeydukes' had to be Vivienne, but how could she have possibly found out about him and Hermione?

"But I just couldn't _believe_ . . ." McGonagall slammed her hand on her desk again and shouted, "What in Merlin's name were you thinking?"

"I — I wasn't," he said weakly. "I . . . lost my composure."

"Clearly! And was this the first time or have you 'lost your composure' before? How long has this been going on with Miss Granger? Have there been any other students?"

"No," he said quickly, but one of the portraits interrupted, saying in a smug tone, "I warned you, Minerva. I told you allowing the werewolf to return to the castle would only bring you trouble."

McGonagall stopped her pacing and fixed Remus with the severest of looks. "You gave me your word that you would be responsible about taking your potion — that was the only condition with which I hired you. However, it is obvious from the scene you left behind in your quarters that you haven't taken it today, which means you put Miss Granger in terrible danger. Explain yourself!"

Images of the broken door and shattered glass in his quarters flashed through his mind, and Remus felt sick at the thought of how he could have hurt Hermione. He had no intention to defend himself — he didn't deserve to be defended — but he answered truthfully, "I did take the potion. This morning."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him.

"So this little indiscretion had nothing to do with your lycanthropy? You were in your right mind tonight, acting purely of your own volition, fully aware that your conduct was unethical and grounds for me to dismiss you from your position at this school?"

Remus didn't know how to answer but was spared from having to come up with a response by Hermione suddenly bursting through the door behind him.

"Professor McGonagall — don't fire him! Please, it was my fault! It was me!"

Remus fought the urge to tell Hermione not to do this, to stop. He feared even glancing her direction would incense McGonagall further.

The headmistress looked ready to send her away, but Hermione plunged on.

"Please, Professor, he doesn't deserve to be punished for something I'm responsible for! Please, let me explain!"

McGonagall's severe gaze did not relent. But after a few tense moments her lips twitched and she said to Remus, "Leave us. I will deal with you after I have spoken with Miss Granger."

* * *

Hermione self-consciously smoothed her skirt again with sweaty palms. She could feel the attention of the current headmistress along with that of her predecessors trained intently on her, and though she wanted nothing more than to escape the hot beams of their stares, she remained in the seat Remus had vacated, desperate to fix this mess she'd created.

"Professor, what happened tonight . . . it was my fault. Rem — Professor Lupin, he — he didn't want that. He wanted me to stay away."

"What I witnessed suggests quite the contrary, Miss Granger," McGonagall countered, a sharp edge to her voice, and heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks. "Or are you going to tell me that what I saw wasn't what it looked like? That you were not passionately entwined with _Professor_ Lupin, that he did not invite you to his quarters —"

"He didn't invite me, Professor. I went to his office because I needed to speak to him, and I — I just barged into his quarters even though he told me I wasn't allowed in there because I was upset and I needed to talk, and I was the one who initiated everything, Professor, not him. I was the one who kissed him before he could stop me. And he _couldn't_ have stopped me. I know I sh-shouldn't have, especially this close to the full moon, but I just — I just w-wanted . . ."

Hermione trailed off, unable to say aloud what she'd wanted, what she'd hoped to accomplish by kissing Remus like she had, knowing the way she affected him and that he preferred to keep his distance this close to the full moon. Because she hadn't merely been acting on impulse. She'd known full well if she kissed him he likely wouldn't be able to turn her away. So had she hoped to compel him to give in to his feelings and just let himself be with her already despite that being exactly what he had been so insistent on _not_ wanting to do, partly because of fear he might hurt her? Her actions seemed so selfish and reckless now.

"So Olivia was right," McGonagall said tersely over the murmurings of the portraits. She dropped into her chair, bringing Hermione back to attention.

"P-professor Avila?" she said blankly. What did she have to do with any of this?

"She claims you've been harassing Professor Lupin, attempting to seduce him," McGonagall told her tautly, and Hermione's jaw dropped. "She alleged to have overheard part of a conversation between the two of you a couple weeks ago, a conversation in which Professor Lupin was releasing your obligation to assist him with Defense Club and attempting to enforce the proper boundaries between teacher and student, while you insisted on continuing to act as his assistant, assuring him that you knew there could be nothing romantic between you. Did that conversation occur, Miss Granger?"

"I . . . Well . . . yes, a conversation like that did occur, but I — I haven't been harassing him or trying to — to . . ."

But hadn't she just admitted that she'd entered Remus's quarters against his wishes and kissed him because she'd known he wouldn't be able to resist? Her stomach squirmed with shame and she shrank in her seat, covering her mouth with her hand. What she'd done was worse than seduction, she'd practically forced herself on him. . . .

McGonagall's lips pinched tighter, her gaze sweeping over Hermione as if she'd never truly seen her before.

"Professor Avila also alleges to have overheard another snippet of conversation between you two in the Room of Requirement this evening. She said there was mention of a schoolgirl crush, and she also noted that Professor Lupin appeared relieved to part from you when she entered the room, asking to have a word with him. Is that true as well?"

Hermione nodded numbly, too dazed by it all to even feel angry at Professor Avila for eavesdropping on them and for painting her the way she had to the headmistress.

"I must admit," McGonagall said after a short silence, "I found it very difficult to believe Professor Avila's accusation. I was certain she must have misunderstood what she'd overheard. Still, I had to question Professor Lupin about the matter, so I went to his office this evening, and . . . well, here we are.

"I am deeply shocked and extremely disappointed by your conduct, Miss Granger. I would have never expected this of you, of either of you —"

"I beg you, Minerva," said a familiar voice unexpectedly as Hermione shrank further in her seat, "do not judge so harshly without knowing all the facts."

McGonagall swiveled around, shooting an inquiring look at Dumbledore's portrait. "The facts?"

"Yes, the rest of the story." Dumbledore directed his blue gaze toward Hermione. "Miss Granger, you would do well to tell the whole of it."

Hermione stared at him, startled. "Y-you mean . . . everything, sir?"

He nodded. "From the beginning."

But Hermione only regarded him apprehensively, unsure whether telling the whole story would help the situation or just make everything worse.

"Well, go on, Miss Granger," McGonagall demanded.

Hermione bit her lip, afraid of digging Remus into deeper trouble.

She glanced uncertainly between the expectant headmistress and the encouraging Dumbledore, at a loss for what to do. But she didn't have much choice now that Dumbledore had divulged that there was more.

Maybe he was right. Maybe if McGonagall knew more of their story, she would understand. . . .

After another nod from Dumbledore, Hermione took a deep and steadying breath. Then she began to recount her tale.

She started with that night at the Burrow and the rose, speaking haltingly, self-consciously at first, measuring her words and how much to disclose. But as she continued on and told McGonagall about her time travel and her friendship with the younger Remus in the past, as she relived the inner turmoil then joy she experienced over their eventual romantic relationship, and then her heartbreak when she had to leave him and the possibility of ever being with Remus again behind, Hermione became lost in it all, forgetting her audience.

The words began tumbling out of her mouth without her volition and she revealed more than she'd initially intended, but she couldn't hold back her words or her emotions as she described how difficult it had been this past year being around an unwitting Remus, the grief and the guilt and the hope, then how awful things had been after the rose had returned his memories. She was spilling her guts, pouring her heart out, as if she'd taken Veritaserum, completely overwhelmed as she spoke about the roller coaster of emotions the last few days had been, which climaxed with what had happened tonight.

She finished with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed sobs.

Only minutes later when Hermione reined in her emotions a bit and became aware of the silence that had fallen, her sniffling the only sound in the room, did she finally uncover her face, remembering that she was not alone. She raised her gaze to McGonagall in a panic, fearing that she'd revealed far too much.

She was surprised to find tears in the headmistress's eyes.

McGonagall cleared her throat and turned to Dumbledore. "You Obliviated my memory?"

"Forgive me, Minerva, but it had to be done. However, if your memories had remained intact you would recall that you've played a significant role in getting these two together." McGonagall raised her eyebrows and Dumbledore went on to explain, "Similarly to how you've paired them this year by suggesting Miss Granger be Remus's assistant, you assigned Remus to be Miss Granger's study partner in the past, thereby appointing them to spend a great deal of time together as he helped her catch up on her coursework. And, might I add, you were quite glad to have had a hand in the match-up. You once confided to me you thought them to be a lovely couple."

"Well, lovely couple or not," McGonagall said heavily, eyes closing as she bowed her head slightly and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "there are rules forbidding any sort of romantic relationship between teacher and student, rules with serious consequences if ever they are broken as Remus has broken them."

"But you won't fire him, will you, Professor?" Hermione asked anxiously. "He was trying to stay away. I was the one who went after him and initiated everything."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but regardless of who pursued whom, Professor Lupin is responsible for his misconduct," McGonagall replied grimly, and Hermione's stomach clenched with guilt. "Now, I must ask you to return to your dormitory while I settle this matter."

Hermione had never felt so helpless. None of it mattered, what she'd revealed about the rose and the time travel. It didn't matter that she'd confessed her love for Remus, nor that despite the way he might feel for her he had intended to keep his distance. McGonagall was still going to fire him.

She shouldn't have kissed him, shouldn't have gone to see him tonight. She should have waited until the holidays to speak to him, waited until they could meet away from the school, away from the danger of being caught, as Remus had suggested.

But she had been impatient and careless and now he was going to lose the job he loved. Because of her. It was all her fault.

* * *

Remus looked around at the damage he'd done in his quarters. The room didn't look nearly as bad as the Shrieking Shack used to look after he'd spent the full moon there, but it was still unnervingly reminiscent.

But at least he hadn't hurt Hermione. Thank heavens for that.

McGonagall was right when she'd said he'd put Hermione in terrible danger. She was right to fire him. He deserved to get sacked. And part of Remus felt relieved to leave Hogwarts as he packed his things after cleaning up his mess. Another part of him, however, shattered a bit when he threw the last of his belongings into his suitcase.

And when he reached for the rose, his chest tightened. He thought back to the night he'd picked it, how much had happened between Hermione and himself since, and how much he regretted what was happening now. . . .

Remus waited for McGonagall in his office, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, around midnight, she came.

She glanced down at his luggage as she swept into the room, her eyes lingering a moment on the rose atop his suitcase. He silently cursed himself for not packing it away out of sight and hoped she didn't think he intended to give it to Hermione.

But McGonagall made no mention of the rose when her hard gaze met his. "You've already packed, I see."

He gave a small nod, and when an uncomfortable silence followed, he stepped forward, eager to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. "Minerva — Headmistress . . . I cannot express enough how deeply grateful I am for the opportunity you've given me to teach at this school, and how — how deeply I regret having let you down. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I'll show myself out."

He picked up his things and quickly started toward the door.

"Remus, stop," McGonagall commanded before he could reach it.

He cringed as he paused in his tracks. He should have known she wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. Steeling himself for whatever more she had to say to him, he slowly turned back around.

"Put down your things and sit down."

He did as she ordered while she remained standing, as intimidating a figure as she'd seemed to him the first time he'd met her as a child.

"Listen to me carefully," she said sternly as he peered up at her. "You are forbidden — I repeat, _forbidden_ — from seeing Miss Granger for the rest of the school year. You are not to be alone with her. You are not to speak to her or interact with her in any way outside of lessons, and even in class any contact between you must be kept to the barest minimum and only when absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"

He frowned slightly, perplexed as he turned her words over in his mind.

"Remus?"

"No, I . . . what?" He didn't understand. What did she mean by 'for the rest of the school year' and 'in class'?

"You and Miss Granger cannot be romantically involved while she is at Hogwarts." When his confusion only deepened, McGonagall added, "You and Miss Granger cannot be involved while you are still her professor."

"Still her . . ." He blinked. His ears must be playing tricks on him. Because she couldn't have just said. . . .

"Yes, professor. I am not firing you, Remus, nor am I allowing you to resign. However, if I hear — and believe me there _will_ be eyes on you — that you are secretly carrying on with Miss Granger, I, as headmistress of this school, will have no choice but to dismiss you immediately. Is that clear?"

He shook his head slightly. He must have fallen asleep while waiting for McGonagall in his office and was now dreaming. She couldn't really have said he was still a professor, couldn't really be giving him another chance. . . could she?

"Remus?" she said sharply.

"Y-yes," he managed to answer despite the disbelief dulling his mind.

"Good." McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "Now," she continued, her tone softer as well, "as your friend, Remus . . . I do sincerely hope you will seek Hermione out _after_ graduation."

Yes, this was definitely a dream. It had to be.

McGonagall gave him a faint smile as he stared at her incredulously. "Love is precious. If you are fortunate enough to have found it, it would be a terrible shame for you to forsake it."

And with that she walked out of the room, leaving him sitting there, utterly stunned, for a long while.


	43. Chapter 43

"Would you like some coffee, darling?"

Hermione mumbled a "no thanks" to her mother and continued flipping through the _Daily Prophet_ as she'd done every morning the last week, scanning for news about Hogwarts and any staff changes. The morning after McGonagall had caught her with Remus, Hermione hadn't been able to bear facing either one of her professors and had left for home for the Easter holidays before she had the chance to run into them, and also before she could find out if Remus had been fired.

If he had, she expected it would be in the news considering the controversy surrounding his — a werewolf's — appointment at Hogwarts. This morning, however, like the others before, there was no mention of the dismissal or new hiring of a Hogwarts professor. This only left her feeling more anxious than relieved, though, because it didn't necessarily mean Remus hadn't been sacked. Perhaps McGonagall had just succeeded in keeping the news quiet.

Hermione was about to put the paper aside and start on her breakfast when she noticed Fenrir Greyback's name. Apparently he'd been mysteriously attacked in Azkaban last night — the perpetrator, whether fellow inmate or guard, presently unknown — and was currently at St. Mungo's in critical condition.

"Serves him right," Hermione muttered, thinking of the savageries Greyback had committed, all the children — including Remus — he'd infected and marked for life, and the horror she'd felt when she herself had almost become one of his victims, the way her flesh had crawled when he'd called her "delicious girl."

"Are you reading the article on Fenrir Greyback?" Mrs. Granger asked as she joined Hermione at the table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"Yeah. I was just thinking of all that he's done and — wait a minute," Hermione said suddenly, giving her mother with a quizzical look. "How did you know there was an article on Greyback?"

"I subscribed to the _Daily Prophet_ months ago," Mrs. Granger said, patting her own copy of the newspaper, which Hermione hadn't noticed was lying on the table by her mother's plate.

"But why —?"

"I wanted to keep informed on all that's going on in the Wizarding world — not like before when you shared with your father and me only what you thought wouldn't shock us and left out the bits where you and your friends were in mortal danger."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She gave her mother an apologetic smile. Mrs. Granger didn't return it.

Instead, she asked, "Didn't you say one of your professors was a werewolf like Greyback? Professor Lupin, I believe."

"Yes, Professor Lupin is a werewolf, but he's nothing like Greyback," Hermione was quick to explain. "Greyback is savage and wishes to infect as many wizards as he can. Lupin would never want to hurt anyone or pass his affliction on to anybody else. He's very careful about taking his Wolfsbane Potion, which alleviates the symptoms of his lycanthropy and helps him keep his mind when he transforms."

"So he isn't dangerous," her mother said carefully, "or else he wouldn't be allowed to teach at your school?"

"Right."

Mrs. Granger took a sip of her coffee before casually asking, "So how are things going between you and Remus?"

Hermione tensed, eyes darting back to her mother, startled by her abrupt change of subject, which she feared her mother knew wasn't really a change of subject at all. "What?"

"The boy who gave you that rose and heart necklace — how are things going between you two?"

Hermione stared at her mother. Did she know? Had she figured out that the Remus she was in love with, the Remus she'd told her about last summer but had carefully avoided discussing while at home over the Christmas holidays, was Professor Lupin? If she'd been reading the _Daily Prophet_ for months, she likely would have seen Remus mentioned a few times, like when his appointment at Hogwarts had been debated at the start of the school year and when the werewolf attack on Valentine's Day had happened.

"Um . . . still complicated," Hermione said nervously.

"So you're not together?" her mother asked, watching her very closely.

"No. We — we still have some things we need to work out."

"Maybe it would be best for you to wait until after graduation when all the stress of your exams has passed and you have a clear head to think things through carefully."

"Yes. That was the plan."

Hermione was only slightly relieved when her mother dropped her probing gaze and said nothing more about Remus as they ate. She had to suspect something, didn't she? If she did, though, Hermione couldn't imagine that her mother wouldn't say more on the subject. Or maybe she just wasn't sure if what she suspected was true and was hesitant to bring up the matter.

Well, Hermione certainly wasn't about to bring it up either.

As Mrs. Granger finished up her breakfast, she said, "Your father and I were thinking of going to the cinema this evening. What do you say?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have a lot of studying to do."

"You've been working too hard. We've hardly seen you since you've been home. I think a break would do you good."

"Harry's coming over in a little while. I'll take a break then."

To allay her mother's worry, Hermione told her she'd also think about going to the cinema with them later as well. It was true that she'd spent little time the last week doing anything but studying for her N.E.W.T.s., not only because she needed to but also to keep from dwelling too much on what Remus had told her the night McGonagall had caught them together.

She'd been turning it over and over in her mind, and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right when he'd said getting involved with him might make some things difficult for her. And he didn't want to hold her back. He'd only been thinking of her, her well-being and her future, a future she couldn't have with him, a future he refused to have with anyone. He'd warned her that he never planned on marrying and having children because of his lycanthropy. Like she'd told her mother, Remus would never risk passing his affliction to anybody else, especially not to an innocent child.

Hermione felt a sharp pang in her chest at the thought, at what Remus was deprived of, at what he denied himself. She knew he'd be a good father. He was so good with his younger students, kind and fair, great at building up their confidence and well-liked for his quiet sense of humor. And she'd always expected that she'd eventually have kids. But if she were with Remus and that never happened, it wouldn't matter because being with him would be enough. Their love was enough.

Wasn't it?

Wasn't love strong enough to carry them through any obstacle? Wasn't love supposed to conquer all?

Well, their love could have cost Remus the job he loved, his livelihood.

Hermione had thought countless times over the last week to write to him or visit him to apologize and make sure he was okay. She feared, however, that he didn't want to hear from her after what she'd done, especially if she'd indeed gotten him fired, and knew that he would much less want to see her. The full moon had only just passed last night and her presence during these days would have only made matters worse.

Why did she have to affect him this way? It complicated everything. _She_ complicated everything. She remembered the look in Remus's eyes that night in his quarters, like he was terrified of her. He'd told her that he was a danger to her, that he constantly felt like he was on the edge of losing himself when he was with her. But really she was the danger, wasn't she? She was the one who affected him more than anybody else and made him uncomfortable and fearful, terrified of hurting her.

But she knew he wouldn't. It was just his fear getting to him. That night, even though their embrace had been very passionate — beyond passionate, _wild —_ and he'd lacked his usual gentleness ( _he'd kicked down his bedroom door!_ ), he hadn't hurt her. He wouldn't hurt her.

Or was it foolish of her to believe this, that he wasn't a real danger as he said?

Was it reckless of her not to care even if he were?

Was she naive to think they could be happy together despite the issues they were sure to face?

Remus seemed to think so. But if they loved each other, shouldn't they at least _try_ to be happy together? If they loved each other, shouldn't they give it a shot before giving each other up? If they loved each other . . . shouldn't it be less difficult?

If Remus loved her, why did he make everything so hard and keep pushing her away despite knowing how she felt about all this? Because his fears were stronger than his feelings for her? But if he loved her . . . _d_ _id_ he love her?

He'd never explicitly said anything about how he felt for her, not that night in his quarters or the night they'd spent together in the Room of Requirement. The closest thing he'd ever said was that he dreamt about her like she dreamt of him.

But he felt the same as her, didn't he? She thought of the way he'd kissed her and held her that night in the Room of Requirement and wanted to say yes, but then the memory of their conversation after the rose had returned his memories, the exchange that had shattered her heart, replayed in her mind, his words tearing through her like a jagged blade:

" _If you have feelings for me —"_

 _"_ _No,_ _Hermione."_

 _"No?"_

 _"No_ _._ _I'm sorry, Hermione, but_ _I . . ._ _I_ _don't. I'm not the same person I was twenty years ago."_

The memory hit her with nearly the same crushing force as when it had happened, and the doubts Hermione thought she'd gotten rid of swarmed in on her, circling like birds of prey, ready to descend upon her —

Hermione batted them away before they could dig their ugly, poisonous talons in her. This was the last thing she needed right now.

She took her dishes to the sink to wash and forced Remus out of her thoughts. She needed to cheer up and get dressed before Harry arrived.

* * *

 _"You're cautious and self-controlled . . ._ _You wouldn't hurt me,_ _Remus._ _I know you wouldn't . . . I love you . . ."_

 _"You're the tamest, most repressed werewolf I've ever met, which means what you really need is release . . . You're going to break free eventually, whether you want to or not . . ."_

 _Remus opened his eyes to a cloudy night sky. A cold breeze swept over him and he rolled onto his side, seeking Hermione's warmth. But she was no longer beside him. Only cool earth met his touch._

 _A sudden frightened whimper in the distance, then a muffled sob._

 _Remus was on his feet at once, glancing around. No one, nothing there. But another whimper made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end._

 _Where was she?_

 _He followed the feeble sounds of distress toward the Whomping Willow, his heart pounding with a horrible sense of foreboding that heightened with each step he took._

 _Then he saw her, lying curled up in her red cloak under the thrashing willow tree._

 _"No, don't!" Hermione cried as he approached. "D-d-don't come n-near me!"_

 _She was hurt, hugging herself protectively beneath the crimson fabric, and her face was smeared with — was it dirt or . . . something else?_

 _"Please, Hermione, let me see."_

 _She sobbed weakly as he gently unwrapped her cloak with shaking hands to find dark stains covering her shredded white dress. There were lacerations across her chest, the work of brutal, razor-sharp claws, and a jagged tear in her thigh —_

 _No . . . it couldn't be. . . . He couldn't have. . . ._

 _But he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, could feel the stickiness of blood on his hands. It glittered strangely as the clouds shifted and the radiance of the full moon was revealed, showering down upon them like a ghostly spotlight._

 _Hermione started to shake, convulse, the transformation overcoming her, and he hugged her tightly to him, willing it to stop, to take it back. But he could do nothing as she writhed in his arms, nothing as she screamed, her cries cutting through him more deeply and painfully than Greyback's fangs had sunk into his flesh so many years before. . . ._

Remus jolted awake, Hermione's piercing screams still echoing in his ears, though, he realized with another jolt, she was no longer in his arms. He searched frantically for her in the darkness, then jumped to his feet at the noise that erupted somewhere nearby.

He strained his senses, for Hermione, for any sign of danger in the form of Greyback or otherwise. But Remus was no longer at the Whomping Willow. He was in his bedroom at his cottage in the woods.

Another loud banging sound.

It took several frantic heartbeats for Remus to realize someone was knocking at his door, and Hermione — it had only been a dream.

He exhaled a long, shuddering breath and wiped the sweat, the tears, from his face, calling out to his caller that he'd be there in a moment. Pulling on his clothes, he wondered who on earth had come to see him — he rarely got visitors — and why they'd come now, the morning after his transformation when he wasn't in the best state to receive guests. Not morning but afternoon, he realized, judging by the light pouring in through the windows in his living room.

Then, his hand on the doorknob, his heart leapt to his throat as it occurred to him that his visitor could be Hermione — like Little Red Riding Hood traipsing right into the wolf's clutches. The images from his nightmare flashed through his mind: Hermione in the Halloween costume she'd worn in the past, her white dress shredded, her red cloak like a pool of blood around her, and his own hands and mouth smeared with it.

He backed away from the door. He could pretend he wasn't home. But then he remembered he'd already spoken.

Remus willed the images away, telling himself it had only been a dream and it probably wasn't Hermione on the other side of the door anyway. Then, with a steadying breath, he opened the door.

"Harry," he said, a surprising bit of disappointment mingling with his intense relief. "What brings you here?"

"Fancied a chat. Are you busy?"

Remus let him in and gestured for him to take a seat. After Harry declined his offer of a drink, Remus sank into a chair across from him.

"Everything all right?" he asked Harry, concerned by the anger simmering in his eyes.

"I've just been to Hermione's."

Remus tensed. Of course this was about her. He figured this conversation would come sooner or later. Still he hated it had to happen now, that it had to happen at all.

"How is she?" he asked quietly, remembering the expression on her tear-stained face the last time he'd seen her.

"She's been better," Harry replied curtly, and Remus winced inwardly. How much did Harry know? "She's worried about you. She's afraid you might have been sacked. Have you?"

"No, McGonagall only put me on probation. Is Hermione —" he began tentatively, but Harry cut across him.

"Why are you messing her around?"

Harry looked just like James did when he became fiercely protective of his friends, which for some reason made Remus feel more on edge. "I'm not messing her around."

"Then what are you doing?"

He hesitated. "Did she tell you what happened?"

"No, not everything. She didn't want to tell me anything, but I coaxed her into talking a bit. I know enough of what's happened to know you're either a complete idiot or a complete arse."

Remus clenched his jaw. Harry had never spoken to him like this before, and he wasn't sure if he felt more shame or fury.

"She loves you, you know, and I thought you'd be good together. But you're not the man I thought you were," Harry said, and Remus's shame momentarily eclipsed all else. "What you're doing to her, jerking her around like this. . . ." Harry shook his head. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not . . ." Remus took a breath, trying to suppress his own flare of anger, at Harry, at himself. "Harry, I — I care about Hermione very much. But she and I. . . . It's best that we don't get involved."

"Why? Because you're a werewolf? Well, other werewolves less well off than you have taken a different stance. Some have even married and had families. And their children, by the way, were born without lycanthropy."

A frown tugged on Remus's features as he stared at Harry, puzzled.

"There haven't been many successful long-term studies done on werewolves," Harry began to explain, "because they, unsurprising, tend to be elusive and refuse to be studied. But of all the known instances of werewolves having offspring, none of the children — not one — has been born with lycanthropy. It appears it can only be passed on through bites, not genes."

Remus had never met a werewolf who'd had a child after they'd acquired their affliction — his kind didn't usually breed — so he had no idea if this was true. He'd always assumed a werewolf's child would likely be like his parent, but what Harry said . . . could it be true? "How do you know this?"

"As a favor for Hermione I asked around the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and got access to all their research on werewolves, research that's relatively new and hasn't yet made it to the textbooks."

Or perhaps that research was purposely kept from the textbooks because no one wanted werewolves to reproduce.

Remus sat back in his chair, unsure what to think of Hermione requesting this information and staggered by the information itself. If this was true . . . well, it didn't change much. Children might not inherit their parent's lycanthropy, but they'd still inherit the stigma.

"Hermione probably won't like that I've told you she's looked into this," Harry said a bit sheepishly, "and she probably won't like that I've come here to talk to you about her. But she's like a sister to me. And you — you're my family too."

Again Remus was overwhelmed by how much Harry reminded him of his old friend.

"I'd like for you both to be happy, Remus, and right now you're not. So if you care about her like you say you do, why not go to her? Why keep pushing her away?"

Remus stared at his young friend, as astonished and perplexed by his attitude toward this as he was by McGonagall's.

"You don't understand. It's not that simple, Harry."

"It doesn't have to be that complicated either."

And those were the words that stuck with Remus after Harry had gone, playing over and over in his mind as he roamed about his cottage searching unsuccessfully for a distraction, agitating him until he was more mixed up than ever. He'd already been a mess mulling over his relationship with Hermione the last few days, warring with himself, going back and forth between what he should do, and his conversation with Harry only added to this madness and tension inside him.

 _It doesn't have to be that complicated either —_ as if he had a choice in the matter. As if he himself had willfully crafted the complications pulling him away from Hermione. Remus kicked over a chair in a surge of frustration.

If only it were as easy as Harry believed. If only he didn't have to worry about the danger and stigma he'd bring Hermione, and could just be with her, live out what he imagined late into the night when he was most vulnerable and his thoughts most uninhibited. If only he could give in to his fancies, his wildest dreams, which were really quite ordinary and involved a simple life and perhaps, maybe further down the road, even a pair of bushy-haired children who'd be beautiful and brilliant like her.

His longing for that fantasy, for her, had him feeling like he was about to burst at the seams, and that the dream felt so within reach yet impossible made him want to explode. Feeling too confined in his shabby and stiflingly lonely cottage, Remus burst out the door for some fresh air.

Sunlight streamed through the spring foliage as he stormed through the woods, frightening small creatures away with his elephant-like stomping. Something scurried above him, shaking leaves down upon him, and Remus was reminded of the snowball fight he'd had with Hermione, how she'd cleverly brought down a load of snow on him with a well-aimed shot to the snow-packed tree branches he'd been standing under. He remembered the sound of her laughter as he'd chased after her, the way she'd peered up at him when she'd stumbled into his arms moments later.

Remus shook the leaves from his hair. Hermione shouldn't look at him that way. She deserved better. He was no good for her.

But she refused to believe him, to accept that. She insisted that despite everything, she wanted him, wanted a future with him. She said she loved him.

She _loved_ him.

And he loved her.

And love was precious, not to be forsaken. . . .

Remus was moving before he knew what he was doing, turning in place into nothingness. His mind whirred, trying to catch up with his actions and take control as he was being pressed hard from all directions, but it was his heart that led him, tugging him through the darkness and compression to his destination.

He Apparated onto the street before a house he'd seen only once before, during wartime, when he and Tonks had escorted Hermione from her parent's home to the Burrow for the summer. He didn't care that his sudden appearance out of nowhere startled the Muggles passing him on the sidewalk, he strode right up the walkway to Hermione's door, his heart racing his feet, and rang the doorbell.

Seconds passed. Nothing.

He rang the doorbell again, shifting his weight anxiously while the chime sounded within.

Again nobody answered.

Just as he was about to pound his fist on the door and call out Hermione's name, a voice floated to him from next door.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Remus looked over at the woman in the neighboring garden.

"I'm looking for Hermione Granger," he said, glancing at the nearest window, fearing she might be inside but just didn't want to see him.

"The Grangers aren't home," the neighbor replied, adjusting her floppy hat as she eyed him suspiciously.

His shoulders slumped. "Do you know when they'll be back?"

"Sorry, can't say. I can let them know you dropped by, Mr. . . .?"

"No, that's all right. I'll just call another time."

Remus quickly started back toward the street. He could tell the woman was wary of him and wanted him to leave, and he knew it was because of his sickly and disheveled appearance post-transformation.

Merlin's beard, what had he been thinking coming over looking like this?

What had he been thinking coming here at all? What if one of Hermione's parents had answered the door? What would they have thought of their daughter's professor visiting her at her home, ill and with a half-crazed look in his eyes? What would he have told them? And what if McGonagall found out about this?

Remus silently cursed himself for his rashness and searched for a place he could Apparate home without being seen. He shouldn't have done this. He'd promised McGonagall he'd stay away from Hermione. Even if it pained him how much he missed her, he had to wait.

But he feared that when he was finally able to speak to her again it would be too late.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm so happy I've finally been able to update. I've been having a tough time writing lately, but knowing you're following this story and reading your lovely reviews has motivated me and helped me tremendously. Thank you! I think I'm getting into the flow of writing again, so hopefully updates won't take so long anymore. Fingers crossed!


	44. Chapter 44

Remus had never enjoyed a lesson more than he did on the Monday morning that classes resumed after the spring holidays. After being certain he was going to be fired the last time he'd been at Hogwarts, he felt nothing but gratitude and relief to be able to teach in his classroom again. So consumed by this joy, he hardly noticed the strange way Luna Lovegood was staring at him.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Luna remained in her seat, still considering him thoughtfully, as the rest of the Ravenclaws took off for their next lesson.

"Anything I can help you with, Luna?" he asked, stepping toward her desk.

"Yes. I have a question, Professor. Did you know your aura is changing?"

"Pardon me?"

"The dubite is still there," she said, tilting her head as her gaze dropped to his chest, "but it's weakening as your aura is strengthening."

Remus glanced down at his shirt, wondering if he'd spilled some breakfast on himself earlier, but there was nothing there.

"What's a dubite?" he asked curiously.

"A small, claw-shaped creature that latches onto your chest, unable to be seen, and keeps you from enjoying peace and happiness. You've had yours for a long time, Professor, but I always knew you'd defeat it eventually. It was just a matter of time before you found the special potion and mustered the courage needed to take it. I suspect Hermione has been helping you with that, has she?"

Luna gave the disconcerted Remus a smile.

"I'm glad," she said. "I know you'll be completely rid of the dubite soon."

Remus watched in bemusement as Luna strolled out of the classroom, a vague smile still on her lips. Then he glanced down at his chest again.

"What in Merlin's name . . . ?"

* * *

Harry had already informed her that Remus hadn't been fired, but even so Hermione could not describe the tremendous relief that rushed through her when she'd returned to Hogwarts after the holiday and saw Remus for the first time, still sitting among the other professors at the staff table in the Great Hall.

That relief, however, whooshed out of her when McGonagall caught her eye. The headmistress gave her a look of warning, the message crystal clear to Hermione: stay away from Remus. Hermione's stomach sank as her worry that there could be no contact at all between them was confirmed, and she was too afraid to even look at Remus again under the headmistress's watchful eye.

It appeared, however, that McGonagall wasn't the only one keeping a close watch on her. Tuesday morning in Transfiguration, Professor Avila constantly shot looks full of displeasure and distaste at Hermione. Hermione felt a similar displeasure but tried her best to keep in check her own ill feelings toward the woman who'd eavesdropped on her and Remus and gotten them in trouble.

It took considerable effort, so Hermione was glad when the bell rang at the end of class — until Professor Avila held her back.

"Do not think, Miss Granger, that I have forgotten the detention I gave you for your insolence and lack of preparation for my class," she said. "I wanted to oversee your detention myself, and, as I've been very busy, I haven't had time to assign you a date. However, I expect you in my office at six o'clock this evening."

In truth, Hermione had forgotten the detention she'd been given before the holidays for walking out of Transfiguration. She remembered now with some satisfaction the look on Professor Avila's face as she'd done it, though she also realized that incident had probably only added to Professor Avila's desire to catch her in any wrongdoing, to get her into trouble. And she certainly had gotten her in trouble. Her and Remus both.

Now, as Hermione entered the D.A.D.A. classroom, uncertainty tangled her stomach, an uncertainly she knew was unlikely to be cleared anytime soon if she wasn't allowed to talk to Remus. Remembering the warning look McGonagall had given her, Hermione used every ounce of will power she had to keep from trying to catch Remus's eye, to keep from trying to communicate with him in any way she could to find out if he was upset with her and figure out where they stood. Instead she just focused on the lesson.

Today they were reviewing the Patronus Charm. Hermione wasn't surprised when Remus asked his students if anyone would like to demonstrate how the spell was cast instead of showing the class himself. He hated the wolf form his Patronus took. So, knowing his discomfort, she raised her hand when no one else volunteered.

"I'll do it, Professor."

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, his eyes meeting hers for only the briefest of moments.

Hermione made her way to the front of the classroom, taking a deep breath to relax before performing the spell. It had been a while since she'd practiced this charm. She conjured a memory, the happiest she could think of in that moment, and in her mind Remus was gazing at her with glowing eyes as he gently stroked her cheek, and then he was kissing her deeply beneath the sky full of stars and she was lying in his arms, exactly where she felt she was meant to be.

The feeling she'd had that night they'd spent together in the Room of Requirement swelled within her, filling her up to the brim, and blinding silvery-white light erupted from the tip of her wand. Her classmates gasped and oohed at its brilliance, but Hermione stared in shock at the Patronus she'd conjured, trotting around the room, illuminating everything in its path with its powerful glow. Her Patronus had not taken its normal shape as an otter; it had taken the form of —

"A wolf?" Dean Thomas said, surprised. "I thought your Patronus was an otter, Hermione."

"It is — it was," she said in astonishment, her eyes shifting from the luminous wolf to Remus. Their gazes locked for several moments before she turned away, her Patronus vanishing as she swiftly returned to her seat, her face pink.

"Why would a person's Patronus change, Professor?" Dean asked. "I didn't know that could happen."

Remus took a few moments before answering.

"Sometimes . . . some experiences . . . a shock or — or an emotional upheaval of some sort . . ."

Like falling in love? Hermione's blush deepened. She felt her classmates' gazes sweep over her and she tried to act normal, but she was only as successful as her professor, who was being uncharacteristically vague and inarticulate with his answer to his student's question.

Hermione did her best not to bring attention to herself for the rest of the lesson. Still, she could feel the stares of her classmates. Was she just paranoid or were they looking curiously, suspiciously, _knowingly_ between herself and Remus?

Did they know?

"Of course they don't," Ginny reassured her during lunch.

"So there hasn't been any talk about us?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Nothing at all?" Because if there were any whispers, if rumors were swirling about, McGonagall would almost certainly be forced to fire Remus.

"Nothing. Well . . . maybe there has been a _t_ _eensy_ bit of talk," Ginny admitted, and Hermione gave a little squeak. "About how the two of you got on so well, and then how you suddenly didn't even look at each other any more."

"You think they know there's something between us? Because my Patronus . . ."

"Only the other Gryffindors saw that, and even if any of them did think there might be feelings between you two, they would never suspect that you, Hermione Granger, would be sneaking around with a professor, much less tell on you guys for it."

Perhaps her classmates wouldn't suspect it, but unfortunately there was someone who did, and she had detention with her that evening.

When Hermione went to Professor Avila's office later to serve her punishment, her Transfiguration teacher unfurled a piece of parchment and handed it over with a smile Hermione didn't like one bit. Written on the parchment was a list of tasks that included filing papers, restocking and organizing storage rooms around the castle, and cleaning filthy cauldrons and bedpans — all to be done without the use of magic.

Hermione glanced through the long list. There was no way she'd be able to complete all these tasks tonight. Of course, she wasn't meant to.

"If you don't finish tonight," Professor Avila said with obvious pleasure, "you may return tomorrow evening, and then the following evenings after that if so required, until you have checked off every item on that list."

Anxiety crept up on Hermione. It would take at least a week to get through all these tasks, maybe two, and if she spent every evening doing this, that would drastically cut into her study time. Professor Avila was doing this purposely, trying to sabotage her chance of success.

Hermione knew, though, arguing would get her nowhere, might only make the situation worse. So she gritted her teeth and quickly got to work, not wanting to give Professor Avila the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

Organizing files, while tedious, wasn't difficult or all that unpleasant. Even if being in the same room with Professor Avila was. Hermione could feel her staring at her from her desk, and she glanced up to catch the older witch's peeved expression.

"Am I doing something wrong, Professor?" she asked in the most polite voice she could manage.

"Yes, and I don't understand how you're getting away with it," she replied in a clipped manner, stiffly setting down her quill. "I don't understand how you've weaseled your way out of trouble for harassing Professor Lupin."

Hermione hadn't expected her to bring that up. Professor Avila stared at her through narrowed eyes as she continued.

"You're just like her, that girl I despised when I was a student. She was a transfer and only attended Hogwarts for a few months, but I remember her so well. You look just like her. I'd think you were her daughter if I didn't know your parents are Muggles."

Hermione felt a little jolt of shock as an incredible thought occurred to her — could the girl whom Professor Avila had despised in her youth be her when she'd posed as Jean Wilkins in the past?

"I was a prefect," Professor Avila informed her haughtily, "and respected by all the teachers as I was one of the brightest witches in the school. And Remus — he was a prefect too, and we would sometimes patrol the corridors together. He was always so kind to me —"

"He's kind to everyone," Hermione blurted, the softness in her professor's tone as she spoke about Remus rubbing her the wrong way.

Professor Avila scowled. "He was going to ask me to the Halloween dance," she said sharply, bitterly, getting to her feet. "But then that girl, Jean Wilkins, came along."

Hermione bit her lip at the confirmation that she _was_ the girl Professor Avila had despised.

Professor Avila stepped around her desk to stand before her, and Hermione could smell sherry on her like she sometimes smelled on Trelawney.

"All the teachers were so impressed by her supposed cleverness, and Remus was — he was taken by her too." Professor Avila looked Hermione over like Vivienne once had, her lips curling into a slight sneer. "But not again, Miss Granger. He's much too noble and proper and wise to fall for a student's wiles, especially those of a girl the likes of you!"

Professor Avila made a sudden movement and an alarmed Hermione reached for her wand. But her professor only stormed out of her office, slamming the door hard behind her, leaving a ringing silence in the room.

Hermione stared at the place where Professor Avila had disappeared, understanding at last why her professor had disliked her from the first and amazed that she could have inspired such a grudge when she hadn't even met Professor Avila in the past. Hermione wondered if Remus even realized his colleague had feelings for him. Probably not.

Hermione couldn't believe it. At least three women — Professor Avila, Vivienne, and herself — had been vying for Remus's heart this year, yet Hermione knew he'd likely eschew romance and choose to be with none of them. Not even with her. Maybe _especially_ not with her after what had happened recently.

Would that truly be best for her as Remus believed?

Was that what was best for him?

Heart heavy, Hermione continued to work, checking items off the list as quickly as she could. Then, when curfew came and went and Professor Avila still hadn't returned, she decided to dismiss herself from detention. She needed to get some studying done.

Remembering she needed a book, Hermione headed to the library, hoping Madam Pince was still there and would let her in. Luckily she found the doors still open. Hermione hurried through them, gasping when she crashed into somebody on their way out.

A pair of hands caught her around the waist, steadying her as she nearly fell backward, and she went still — as did Remus. She knew it was Remus. Even though she hadn't seen him before their collision, and even if she hadn't recognized his robes, his scent, she knew it was his arms around her, could feel it in the way her entire body seemed to awaken at his touch, lighting up like paper lanterns floating up into a night sky.

Tingling with tension at their unexpected contact and barely breathing, she slowly lifted her head and met his gaze. They were so close, close enough for her to see the freckles in his eyes, close enough to place a tender kiss upon his lips, close enough to feel his heartbeat next to hers — _too_ close.

They shouldn't be this close. Not now, not here. What if somebody saw them and McGonagall found out Remus had been caught in another embrace with her, however innocent and inadvertent it had been?

Hermione hastily broke apart from him. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, stepping back.

"Hermione —"

She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from his. "I — I have to go."

Hermione turned on her heel and fled for her dormitory, book forgotten, while Remus called after her. She didn't turn back. She _couldn't_ turn back, couldn't stand to get him into trouble again.

* * *

She'd run away from him.

Before he'd had the chance to say anything, Hermione had run away. Why?

Remus stalked through the corridors back to his office, remembering the fear in her eyes when she'd pulled away from him moments ago. But fear of what? Of getting caught together again? Or fear of him? Recalling what had happened the last time they'd embraced, the way he'd ripped open her shirt, buttons flying everywhere, and kicked down his bedroom door, he couldn't blame her if she was afraid of getting too close to him now.

In his quarters, Remus tried not to remember the mess he'd made there that night — physically and otherwise — and how wildly he'd been consumed by lust. It unnerved him the way he'd lost himself so quickly, how easily the wolf that prowled within just burst free from his restraint — like Hermione's Patronus had burst free from her wand, the wolf she'd conjured earlier in class a perfect pair to his own Patronus.

He couldn't believe her Patronus had changed to match his. It had seemed to frighten her as much as it frightened him what that meant, what that charm revealed about her feelings. Strange how magic worked.

Ruminating on the mysteries of magic, Remus retrieved the magic rose from his bedroom, a little thrill traveling through him as he touched the flower, similar to the thrill he'd felt when he'd held Hermione a short while ago, the thrill he always felt with her, deeper than just a physical sensation.

He wandered back to his sitting room, breathing in Hermione's scent as the rose's magic subtly thrummed through him. Allowing himself to fall under its spell, he gave in to the warm feeling the rose instilled in him, the same feeling he'd had when he'd kissed Hermione in the Room of Requirement and when he'd kissed her for the first time atop the Astronomy tower in the past. He remembered vividly how magic had seemed to spark between himself and the girl he'd thought was a dream, how it had filled him with a feeling of warmth and contentment and —

Remus paused in the middle of the room, his features drawing into a frown. It suddenly clicked in his mind that the thrill he felt whenever he and Hermione touched, the magic he felt whenever they kissed, was the same as the magic he felt from the rose.

Remus stared at the extraordinary flower in his grasp. How could he have not realized it before? A host of new questions arose from his sudden understanding. The magic, was it —

"Hello, Remus."

Remus whipped around at the unexpected voice.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to startle you," Dumbledore said from one of the portraits on the wall. The headmaster's gaze lowered to the rose in Remus's hands and he raised a brow. Remus, feeling as guilty as though he'd just been caught holding Hermione herself, fought the childish urge to hide the flower behind his back, out of sight.

What was Dumbledore doing here? Checking in on him? Remus had a sneaking suspicion that all the portraits were keeping a close eye on him under McGonagall's orders.

"That is quite a lovely rose you have there," Dumbledore remarked pleasantly. "I assume it is the magical one? I am surprised to see it. Hermione is under the impression you have destroyed it because you believed it to be cursed."

Feeling the urgent need to explain himself to the headmaster, Remus said, "I had no romantic intentions when I gave her this rose."

"I believe you. It was a simply a kind gesture and your intentions were pure, as pure as the magic which imbues the rose. You expected nothing from Hermione in return."

"I didn't expect anything that followed to happen. I couldn't have known . . ."

"Do you regret what has happened?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus hesitated. He'd often thought everything would be much easier if he hadn't fallen in love with Hermione, and he certainly regretted the pain he'd caused her, and the fact that they couldn't be together. But did he regret their time together, the days and weeks of joy he'd experienced with her both now and in the past?

"No," he said quietly. "I don't."

"Then why have you been pushing Hermione away?"

Remus looked away from Dumbledore, his gaze falling again to the rose, taking in its beauty and magic and vitality. He remembered the feeling he'd had on Valentine's Day when he'd received it as an anonymous gift from Hermione, the feeling that he was too tainted to touch a thing of such purity. . . .

"She's better off," he said, setting the rose down on the nearby coffee table. "She deserves somebody young and whole, someone who isn't a danger, who wouldn't sully her reputation —"

"Hermione deserves someone who loves her as deeply as she loves him and who has the courage to fight for that love," Dumbledore interrupted. "I am disappointed in you, Remus. I thought you had greater strength of character, but I see you are still allowing your fears and insecurities to get the best of you."

His words took Remus aback and frustration flared within him.

"This isn't about. . . . My fears are legitimate," he argued.

"What do you fear? Requited love? Companionship and emotional intimacy? Happiness?"

"What I fear is losing control, the wolf taking over . . . hurting her."

"Have you hurt her before?"

"No. Thank heavens, no. But I've lost control with her on several occasions, and I've never lost control with anybody else."

"So she affects you differently?"

"I can hardly be around her when the full moon approaches, and Wolfsbane Potion is useless when it comes to her. Her scent still affects me, more strongly than any other woman's, and if there's any physical contact between us, my wolfish instincts are triggered immediately and overwhelmingly. My impulses go haywire. I can't distinguish between myself and the wolf, and I don't know what I'm capable of."

"So you are afraid you will not be able to control your wolfish aggression, your impulse to bite and satisfy the wolf's craving for human flesh; yet the losses of control you have experienced have not resulted in any harm to Hermione. What has kept you from hurting her?"

The question startled Remus. "I — I don't know exactly." He'd never considered it much before. "The last time it happened . . . everything was a blur. I didn't hurt her, but I — I went a bit wild. Since Hermione . . . it's been getting harder to keep my impulses in check. That night, I was too overwhelmed with my feelings and with — with hers."

"Her feelings?"

Remus nodded. "Something strange happens sometimes. I can feel her heart beating inside me as clearly as I feel my own, and I can feel what she's feeling. If she's afraid, I know it. I don't just sense it, I _feel_ it. She wasn't afraid the last time I lost control, but she was the times before that. And when I'd realized some of the emotions I was experiencing weren't my own," he said slowly, thinking back to those incidents, "when I recognized her apprehension, I snapped out of the wolfish mindset. My sense of self returned."

"Under which circumstances do you feel her heartbeat and emotions? Does this happen only when you are intimate in the days leading up to the full moon?"

"No," Remus said, glancing away. He suddenly felt nearly as awkward as he did as a young teenager when Dumbledore had given him 'the talk' on how his lycanthropy affected his libido and advised him on how to control his wolfish urges. "I think it happens whenever she's experiencing very intense emotions about — about me."

"There is a special bond," Dumbledore said slowly after a short, thoughtful pause, "a deep empathy, which is said to develop between what some call 'soulmates.' But what you describe, actually experiencing Hermione's feelings as she experiences them — that may be a unique phenomenon. Perhaps it is because of your heightened wolf senses."

The headmaster refocused his thoughtful gaze on Remus, who was reeling a bit from his use of the term 'soulmates.'

"I believe this bond might be the reason why Hermione has remained safe even when you have felt you've lost control. The wolf recognizes that bond between you and does not wish to bring her any more harm than you do."

"Then why do I feel this way? Why do I struggle so much with my wolfish instincts and feel so afraid and conflicted when I'm with her?"

"I believe it is exactly that — your conflicted state and your fear — which makes you feel that way."

"I don't understand."

"You are always so cautious about maintaining your composure and denying your wolfish nature that you tend to suppress all of your emotions to a certain degree. Your feelings for Hermione seem all the more intense for that fact, and you've found you cannot suppress them, yet you fight them just the same, perhaps because you are afraid of their strength or because you think that they are wrong.

"You fight those feelings and you are like the wizard who tries to deny his magic but can never rid himself of it. He cannot suppress his power for long before his pent up magic bursts from him uncontrollably. However, in your case, what bursts from you is your wolfish aggression. What results is your loss of control."

Remus stared at Dumbledore, an uneasy feeling starting in his stomach as he considered this logic. "So . . . I'd be less dangerous if I — if I gave in to my wolfish nature?"

"You'd be less dangerous if you were to fully accept your feelings for Hermione. Emotions, like magic," Dumbledore explained, "are forms of energy that must flow more freely rather than be bottled up. I believe if you accepted your feelings and allowed yourself to experience them rather than attempt to stifle them, you'd find peace within yourself, and you'd regain control over your wolfish nature and pose no threat to Hermione's safety."

Remus couldn't believe it. If Dumbledore was right . . . he'd created this problem himself. By resisting his feelings for Hermione he'd made himself a danger, made himself into a ticking time bomb of sorts. Had he given in to his feelings, this wouldn't have been an issue.

His stomach sank in a sickening fashion as he instinctively recognized the truth in Dumbledore's words, the irony. If his fear and too strict self-restraint were the real problem . . . had he been pushing Hermione away for nothing?

"You have always had a tendency to distance yourself from others, Remus, Dumbledore said quietly, "even from those you consider your closest friends. Perhaps it is especially those you care about most deeply that you pull away from most. You may feel that they are, as you said earlier, 'better off' without you. However, in Hermione's case, I dearly hope you will not continue to choose that self-imposed misery out of mistaken nobility. Not only would you be denying your own chance at love, you would be denying hers as well."

Remus sank onto the sofa, overwhelmed, as Dumbledore continued.

"I also hope you will learn to see yourself as the rest of us do: a good man, a cherished friend, a person who deserves whatever happiness he chooses for himself. And I hope you will choose happiness, Remus."

 _Werewolves have a right to love and pursue their happiness just like everybody else,_ Hermione had once told him. _You deserve love, Remus. You are loved._

Remus shook his head. After what he'd done, after how he'd treated her and what he'd just learned, he didn't deserve Hermione. He really didn't deserve her. Or the magic of the rose.

Remus cleared his throat before looking up at Dumbledore again. "Hermione once said . . . when I gave her the rose . . . something in that exchange between us sparked the magic. How . . ."

"You said you had no romantic intentions when you gave her the rose. You did, however, have feelings for her, feelings perhaps you hadn't yet fully acknowledged or discern to be romantic, yes?"

"Yes," Remus admitted quietly.

Dumbledore nodded. "As did Hermione. And the part of you that recognized those feelings and that pull between you was calling to her, as part of her was calling to you. That magic which draws you together — old magic, the most powerful kind — attempted to make a connection that night, to establish a bond between you. Your hearts, however, were too guarded to fully accept that connection and allow that bond to properly snap into place. The magic imbued the rose instead. The rose has ever since attempted to complete the connection between you and to nudge you to fully accept the bond."

"So the rose . . . it's magic . . . is it . . ." Remus couldn't get the question past the lump in his throat. He feared he already knew the answer, had always known on a certain level.

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "Your love."

Remus didn't know how long he sat there before Dumbledore quietly left the portrait.

He didn't know how late into the night he remained there, his face buried in his hands. Silence pressed in heavily around him while his thoughts and regrets rumbled deafeningly within.

Hermione had to have guessed that the rose was a symbol of their love. It was no wonder why she'd been so upset, so heartbroken that he'd destroyed the rose. She believed he had broken the magic, discarded their love. He'd _made_ her believe it. And he _had_ discarded their love. He'd given up his chance at happiness with her without even a fight.

Sirius had once told him not to let his furry little problem stop him from living his life _._ But he had. He'd let his lycanthropy, his fears and insecurities, his feeling of being unclean, to get the best of him. He'd been a self-pitying coward pushing away the girl of his dreams, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Hermione, on the other hand, had always been more courageous and true to her feelings. She'd bravely declared her love, had been ready to give herself to him body and soul, had been willing to fight for them to be together despite everything — and all he'd ever done was hold back and pull away. Even that night in the Room of Requirement he'd held back, still hesitant to fully express his love for her.

Remus didn't want to hold back any longer, didn't want to push Hermione away anymore. He wanted to apologize, to tell her he was mistaken in so many things. He wanted to tell her how he truly felt, because he feared she didn't know, that he'd hidden it too well.

But he couldn't be alone with her or speak to her until after she graduated. For the next few weeks he'd be able to do nothing but wallow in regret over his stupidity.

Or maybe. . . .

Remus raised his head from his hands, eyes focusing on the table before him. Maybe there _was_ something he could do, however small it may be.

But if McGonagall found out about this —

It didn't matter. Hermione was worth the risk.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Hermione looked around with bleary eyes at all the books and notes strewn across the table before her and decided it was time to call it quits on this drawn out study session. If she didn't get to sleep soon, she'd hardly be functional come morning, and what good would come of that? She tidied up her things and prepared her book bag for the next day, then retired to her bedroom with a grand yawn.

It was when she was changing into her pajamas, clumsy with sleep, that Hermione suddenly froze mid-motion — she'd spotted something lying on her bed that hadn't been there earlier, something that made her breath catch in her throat: a single, gorgeous red rose.

She blinked in bewilderment, the weariness draining from her instantly. Staring at the vision before her, she wondered how the rose had appeared, wondered if it was really there. She half expected it to be a hallucination, a product of her exhausted mind, and that it would disappear the next time she blinked. When the rose remained each time her eyes opened again instead, she slowly moved toward her bed, wondering the question to which her racing heart already knew the answer.

A familiar energy tingled in her fingers as they met with the magic rose. A familiar warmth spread throughout her entire body, seeping into her very being. When she could breathe again, it was Remus's scent she inhaled.

She couldn't believe it. Hadn't he destroyed the rose?

Not trusting her unsteady legs, Hermione eased herself down on the edge of her bed, her fingers fumbling as she untied the piece of parchment attached to the flower. She recognized Remus's handwriting at once:

 _For you —_

 _Despite what I had you believe,  
_ _I would never wish to destroy this rose  
_ _so precious and pure. Its magic,  
_ _our love, ignites my soul, and that light  
_ _inside me will never extinguish._

 _P.S. The rose smells like you._

Emotion seared her throat and her vision blurred, but Hermione read through the note again, eyes snagging on "our love." A broken sob escaped her lips and she collapsed onto her bed, hugging Remus's words to her chest.


	45. Chapter 45

**NOTE: New author's note at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

The day had come at last, and it was a beautiful one, warm and sunny, with only a few wisps of clouds stretched across the bright blue sky. Remus was too anxious, though, to enjoy the delicious sunshine and comfortable breeze, especially after he caught sight of a brunette who looked an awful lot like Hermione joining the rest of the parents and families gathering in the rows of chairs arranged by the lake.

After the Grangers took their seats by Harry and the Weasleys, Hermione's mother glanced around the staff section as if she were searching for someone, and Remus quickly looked away to avoid her roving gaze. She wasn't looking for him, was she? He highly doubted she knew who he was. Hermione wouldn't have told her anything about them, surely.

While waiting for the graduating class to make their entrance so the ceremony could begin, Remus kept himself from peeking in the Grangers' direction and chatted instead with his colleagues, including an already tearful Hagrid.

"Harry and Ron already gone, an' now Hermione's leavin' too."

"They'll keep in touch, Hagrid," Remus reassured him. "They're much too fond of you not to."

"It won' be the same. Don' tell me yeh don' miss 'em, won' miss her. She was yer assistant."

It was true Hermione had been an invaluable help to him this year. Remus had been pleased and relieved when his students, with her assistance, achieved the highest D.A.D.A. scores in years on the final exams they'd just taken.

"There, there, Hagrid," Professor Sprout said, patting his arm. "Yes, it's always bittersweet to watch them go. And it is harder this year. This class was special. Miss Granger, especially. You don't get a student quite like her too often."

Professor Flitwick concurred. "I wouldn't be surprised if she becomes Minister for Magic someday. She'll do great things."

"She already has," Remus said, and the others murmured their agreement.

It was true she'd been incredibly brave and selfless in the war against Voldemort, but Remus admired even more the courage and compassion she embodied in everyday life. An ache started in his chest as he thought about her. Hagrid was right. He would miss her. He already missed her.

The past several weeks had been the longest of his life. There had been no more coincidental encounters with Hermione in the corridors or chances to speak to her without a classroom of students listening in. Now that he wanted nothing more than to be with her after going so long denying his feelings, this distance between them was almost more than he could take. Every day had been a struggle to keep his word to McGonagall and stay away from Hermione.

Hermione, meanwhile, seemed to be having less difficulty staying away from him, and he wasn't sure what to think about that. The first D.A.D.A. lesson after he'd returned to her the magic rose, Remus had spotted, with a rush of emotions, Hermione wearing the heart necklace he'd given her so long ago. She'd worn it conspicuously over her school uniform so that the silver gleamed with the sunlight streaming in from the windows. She'd wanted him to see it, a secret response to the message he'd sent her with the rose.

But she hadn't worn the necklace since that day, and she'd been careful, determined, not to have any form of contact with him. Remus couldn't help but fear that now that he'd finally accepted and embraced his feelings for her, she was rethinking her own for him. Had she grown too frustrated waiting for him to come around? Too tired of being the only one fighting for their love?

Why had he been so foolish? Why had he fought his feelings for so long instead of allowing himself to be silently drawn?

Music started up and everyone quieted down as the graduating class made their entrance. Remus straightened up, glancing along the line of students marching toward the stage. When he found Hermione, he pushed aside his useless regrets. He could do nothing about them now. He could only focus on the present, and in a very short time, when Hermione was officially his student no longer, he'd take McGonagall's advice and seek her out.

He would take his own advice, the advice he'd once given Hermione in the past, and do what he felt was right with the time he was given. That way he could live with whatever came next. No more regrets.

* * *

"Lupin looks very handsome today, doesn't he?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione, who was simultaneously trying to listen to McGonagall's speech while mentally rehearsing her own, resisted the urge to look his way.

"Mum invited him to our graduation party," Ginny continued. "What are you going to do if he shows up?"

Hermione didn't answer.

"You're going to talk to him, aren't you?" Ginny pressed. When Hermione again didn't reply, she said, "You have to, Hermione. We're about to graduate, so there's nothing stopping —"

"Please, Ginny, don't," Hermione interrupted tensely. "I can't think about that right now. I have to make a speech."

Ginny respected her friend's wishes and fell silent, but the damage was already done. Hermione glanced over at Remus, who indeed looked particularly handsome today, but her stomach knotted at the thought of him showing up at the Burrow later for the graduation party the Weasleys were throwing.

Over the last few weeks Hermione hadn't allowed herself much time to think about Remus, partly because she was so focused on getting through her exams, and partly because she felt all mixed up whenever she did think about him. Everything with Remus had been so hard, so complicated, and after all this time they'd spent apart recently, she was nervous about talking to him again. She didn't know what he wanted now, or what she wanted anymore for that matter.

She couldn't worry about that right now, though. She was about to graduate from Hogwarts, something that a year ago, when she was off searching for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron, she feared she'd never be able to do. But she was here, and she wanted to stay present and enjoy this momentous occasion to the fullest.

And so she did.

Thankfully, her voice stayed strong despite her nerves as she delivered her speech and was met with boisterous applause, and her feet didn't stumble when she was called to the front of the stage again later to receive her diploma. She exchanged a bright smile with McGonagall as they shook hands, glad that the professor she so admired didn't seem to think any less of her after what happened with Remus. Then, as she walked back to her seat, she shot a grin at Harry and Ron still cheering loudly for her from their place beside her parents. At the close of the ceremony, she hugged Ginny and Luna and cheered with the rest of her classmates, tossing up her witch's hat in celebration.

The graduates then headed toward the fleet of boats awaiting them in the lake. Hermione clambered onto one with Ginny, Luna, and Neville, and when everyone had settled into their seats, Hagrid, filling a boat on his own, commanded the boats forward. He then burst into tears as the entire fleet began to move as one.

"I'm going to miss him," Luna said fondly as Hagrid noisily blew his nose.

"I remember when we came here as first years and saw the castle for the first time," Neville said as they started away from the striking silhouette of the castle, setting off from Hogwarts the same way they'd first arrived, "I was so awestruck I almost lost Trevor. Again. If Hagrid hadn't checked if the boats were empty and seen someone had left a toad behind, I'd have lost Trevor for good." Neville looked at Hermione. "You were the only one who helped me look for him that day on the Hogwarts Express. You were always helping me out when we were younger. What would I have done without you? I was such a clumsy kid, afraid of everything. Glad I grew out of that."

Neville grinned, but Hermione said, "Even back then you were much braver than you knew, Neville."

The four friends reminisced about their time at Hogwarts as they glided across the smooth lake, soft orange and pale pink beautifully painting the sunset sky. When they reached land and disembarked from their boat, they started up a narrow path and made their way to Hogsmeade station. Some of their family and friends were already waiting for them on the platform while the rest were still getting out of their carriages.

Harry and Ron were standing at the front of the waiting crowd. Ginny sprinted ahead of the others toward Harry and threw her arms around him while Ron made a face and pointedly looked away. Hermione laughed along with Luna and Neville before Luna was swept away into her jubilant father's arms and Neville disappeared into the crowd in search of his grandmother.

"Congratulations, Hermione," Ron said when she reached him. "Your parents are around here somewhere. We were on different carriages, so we lost track of them."

"I haven't seen you in too long," Hermione said as she hugged her friend tightly.

"Well, now that you've graduated, we'll be able to hang out more."

"I doubt we'll have much more time than before since we'll all be working." Hermione had been thrilled to learn that she'd gotten the job she'd applied for at the Ministry, a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She'd only have a short holiday before she started.

"But we'll all be at the Ministry now," Harry said, breaking away from his embrace with Ginny at last to hug Hermione.

"Except for me," Ginny pointed out.

"Yeah, but you'll be training for Quidditch with the likes of Gwenog Jones," Ron reminded her with more than a hint of envy.

"So you'll hardly miss us," Harry said.

Ginny grinned. "You're right. Hey, there's Bill!" she added, spotting him among the crowd, and she hurried off to greet her brother.

"Since you'll be at the Ministry with us, Hermione, we'll be sneaking into your office whenever we can."

Hermione smiled. "What is it with you two always wanting to sneak around?"

"You're one to talk," Ron shot back. "I hear you've been sneaking around with —"

Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs, shutting him up just in time because Hermione's parents had just found them.

"See you at the Burrow," Harry said as Hermione turned to her mum and dad, and he and Ron went to join the Weasleys.

Fortunately, her parents didn't seem to have heard what Ron said.

"We're so proud of you," her mother said, pulling her into a tearful hug.

Hermione could see her father's eyes gleaming with pride too as he hugged her next, and before she could dissolve into tears as well, Hermione took her parents' hands and Apparated them to the Burrow where the Weasleys and the rest of their guests were already waiting.

As soon as she and her parents joined the party in the backyard, everyone cheered and congratulated Hermione in welcome, and confetti magically appeared above her head and showered down upon her.

"That's going to happen every time someone congratulates us," Ginny told her as Hermione tried to shake all the confetti from her hair. The redhead jerked her head toward her brothers. "Fred and George's doing."

"Confetti looks good on you, Hermione," George greeted with a wink, and a slight frown touched Hermione's father's brow, his protective instinct kicking in. Hermione knew he'd be keeping an eye on the flirty Weasley for the rest of the night.

George, of course, was not the one he needed to keep an eye on, but the man who was appeared to be absent from the Burrow. Looking around, Hermione could see Remus was not among the gathered guests. Perhaps it was better this way. She wouldn't have to worry about any potential awkward encounter between him and her parents and the danger of their secret romance being prematurely revealed.

Her parents had enough to take in as it was. Magic was evident everywhere, from the lavish decorations and celebratory party tricks to the entertainment for the night — musical instruments that played themselves — to Tonks metamorphosing for Ginny and Luna's amusement. After Hermione pointed out Luna's father, Xenophilius, to her parents, she caught them staring at Tonks as she changed the length and color of her hair, going through shades of red and violet and blue before settling again on pink.

"That's Tonks," Hermione told them. "She's a Metamorphmagus and an Auror like Harry and Ron. Come on, I'll introduce you."

As she led her parents toward the group that included Tonks, her fiancé Jackson, Ginny, Luna, and Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Granger caught Hermione completely off guard by suddenly asking, "Is Professor Lupin here?"

Hermione stumbled to a stop. "What?"

"Professor Lupin," her mother repeated, stopping beside her while Mr. Granger went ahead of them to join Mr. Weasley, who was waving him over. "You said he was a friend of Harry and the Weasleys, and a friend of yours. Is he here tonight?"

"Um, no. I haven't seen him."

"That's a shame. I was looking forward to meeting him."

"You know," Hermione whispered. She had no doubt about it anymore.

"Know what?" her mother said innocently.

"About Professor Lupin. About Remus."

"Ah, the boy who gave you the rose and heart necklace last summer."

"Please don't think badly of him," Hermione implored. Despite her mother's calmness and feigned ignorance, Hermione was sure she knew.

"Why would I?" her mother replied, eyebrows raised.

"Mum, I can't explain everything now — it's a long story that involves some unexpected magic and time travel — but I promise I'll tell you later. Please, Mum, just don't judge him until you know the whole story."

Her mother took a moment before simply saying, "I look forward to hearing all about it."

As her mother joined her husband and the others, Hagrid took the anxious Hermione and Ginny aside to give them their graduation gifts.

"It's not much, but I hope yeh like it," Hagrid told them, handing them each a present.

Hermione turned through the scrapbook he'd made for her, which was filled with photographs of her and her friends at Hogwarts, little notes, and some keepsakes from her adventures with Hagrid and his pets, including a feather from Buckbeak and a piece of parchment scorched by Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback.

"I love it, Hagrid!" she said, hugging him fiercely. "Thank you so much."

Hagrid was soon called away by Charlie Weasley to settle a disagreement between him and Mr. Lovegood about the existence of some magical creature Hermione had never heard of, and she and Ginny were heading toward Tonks when Ginny suddenly squealed.

"What it is?" Hermione asked in concern.

"My mum — she's taking your parents over to meet Lupin!"

Hermione gasped as she looked to where Ginny was pointing. Indeed, Mrs. Weasley was leading her parents past the dancing couples of Bill and Fleur and Ron and Luna and toward the place where Remus and Harry were talking.

"When did he get here?" Hermione fretted as she watched her parents shake hands with Remus. She started toward them, but Ginny held her back.

"If you go over there, you might just make it worse."

She was right. There was really no way to intervene gracefully anyway, and her mum had promised not to judge until she knew everything. Still, Hermione feared what her mother would say.

"I can't look," she said, yet she couldn't turn away either. She stood there watching, transfixed as they conversed.

After a minute or so, when everything appeared to remain amiable between them, Ginny said, "It seems to be going okay."

Hermione saw her father laugh heartily at something Remus said. She caught the smile her mother flashed as well, and the tension in her chest eased a bit. "Yeah. Maybe it'll be okay."

* * *

As Harry led the Grangers away from him at last, flashing a devilish grin back at him as he went, Remus released the breath he'd been holding for the last several minutes. Despite anticipating this night for weeks, he still felt unprepared for his talk with Hermione, and he'd been even less prepared to meet her parents. He'd known, of course, their paths might cross tonight, but he'd been hoping to avoid it.

He had no idea how much they knew about him, about his relationship with their daughter, though he assumed they must not know anything about what had happened between them or they wouldn't have been so pleasant. They'd been friendly, especially Mrs. Granger, who'd been kindly curious about him and rather inquisitive. Her eyes were like Hermione's, a warm, soft brown but also sharp, and the way they'd subtly scrutinized him made him wonder if she perhaps did know something he'd rather she didn't.

"Already meeting the parents, eh?" George said, joining Remus with a grin similar to the one Harry had just given him. "It's a big day for you. A certain brunette finally graduates, meaning there's nothing to keep you from being together anymore, and now — what next? Going to ask for Hermione's hand in marriage?"

"You mean your girlfriend's hand?" Remus replied evenly.

Amusement glittered in George's eyes. "I think you've figured out by now that there was never anything between Hermione and me."

"Hermione says you were only trying to help her. Funny, though, how your manner of 'helping' was more gratifying for you than for anybody else involved."

George smiled. "It just so conveniently worked out that way. But, honestly, Remus," he said, more serious now, "I meant no harm. I really was trying to help you stubborn lovebirds get together. No hard feelings?"

George extended his hand. After a slight hesitation, Remus shook it. "No hard feelings."

"Great. So . . . you think Hermione will need any more of my help?" George asked, mischievous gleam back in his eyes. "Because, being the noble lad that I am, I'm always up for helping her in any way I can —"

Remus shot him a sharp look.

"Only joking," said the Weasley quickly, putting his hands up and stepping back. "Please don't punch me again. My jaw's still recovering from the last time."

Remus smiled despite himself.

"Actually," he said, a thought occurring to him, "there is something you can do to help, George."

"What do you need?"

"I'd like to get Hermione on her own by the roses near the gate. If you could stage some sort of distraction —"

"Ah, you're in luck. A perfect distraction is already planned."

George went to join his brother, and Remus looked over to where Hermione stood talking with Harry and Ginny. She looked even lovelier than usual tonight in her Gryffindor-red graduation dress.

As he watched her laugh with her friends, his stomach flipped nervously. He hoped she would give him a chance, at least hear him out, but he wasn't sure there was anything he could say that would make up for the way he'd acted.

Still, he had to try. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen and Percy Weasley, may I please have your attention," Fred said in a magically amplified voice so everyone at the Burrow could hear. "George and I would now like to present to tonight's graduates a special surprise. Everybody, if you would please follow me. Get ready to have your socks knocked off."

"Ooh, what do you think the surprise is?" Ginny asked, looking at Hermione, then Harry, who was wearing an exaggerated look of ignorance on his face. The redhead narrowed her eyes at him. "You know, don't you? Tell us."

Harry grinned. "You'll find out in a minute."

The three of them joined the rest of the group following Fred away from the Burrow to a neighboring field.

"I wonder if it's —" Hermione began, but then somebody grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her back.

"Oh, no you don't, Hermione," George said. "You're staying here. My graduation gift to you is waiting for you over there by the gate."

Suspicious of what this graduation gift could be, Hermione looked where George had indicated. Her heart stalled when she saw Remus standing there by the gate — the same place he'd stood with her last summer when he'd given her the magic rose. She turned back to her friends. Harry and George were both grinning at her.

"Go on, Hermione," Ginny said, eyes bright with excitement as she gave her friend a little push. "Talk to him."

Hermione hesitated. After all this time they'd spent apart, she wanted nothing more than to heed the tug of her heart and go to Remus, yet she knew she wouldn't be able to endure another heartbreak. She was afraid of what he might tell her, afraid that he'd thought better of the note he'd sent her with the rose several weeks ago and regretted it like he'd regretted the night they'd spent together in the Room of Requirement. With the distance between them and the lack of communication the last couple of months, she didn't dare presume she knew where he stood now.

But there was only one way to find out.

Hermione took a deep breath and started toward him. Remus hadn't seen her yet. He was looking at the roses, but sensing her approach he slowly turned around, his eyes meeting hers. Her stomach knotted worse than ever.

"Hi, Hermione."

"Hi," she said, feeling jittery. She glanced back to where her friends had been, but they'd given her privacy and gone with the others for the Weasley twins' surprise. She was alone with Remus for the first time in weeks, and she felt all jumbled inside.

"You look beautiful."

Hermione's face grew warm at the unexpected compliment, the first he'd given her of that nature since he was seventeen. "Thank you," she said, nervously tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

The sounds of distant laughter and the lively music from the self-playing instruments filled the silence as they gazed at each other for what felt like a long time before Remus finally spoke again.

"I've missed you these last few weeks. I've really missed you. I've wanted to talk to you for a long time, to apologize for being such a fool and a coward and an arse."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered how she'd hurled those words at him that night she'd confronted him in his quarters. "I was upset when I said that."

"But you were right," he told her, and there was something in his expression as he looked at her now that made Hermione's heart ache. So often was Remus guarded and difficult to read, but now there was vulnerability in his eyes. For once he was wearing his emotions on his sleeve, and while before she'd only caught glimpses of his fear of being with her, she could see a different sort of fear in his eyes now — one of losing her, of being _without_ her.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Hermione," he said, voice revealing his urgent need to explain, "but I realize now that was all I did. I did everything wrong. Because I was afraid, and I didn't know how to handle my fears or the situation or these feelings. Falling in love with you has been the most terrifying thing to happen to me, but the time we were together was also the happiest I've ever been. I'm sorry for being an idiot and for making everything difficult, and for taking so long to —"

"Remus, stop," Hermione said abruptly, pulse racing. "I don't want to hear your apologies or your explanations."

"Hermione —"

"I don't want to hear it, Remus," she repeated, and a pained expression crossed his face. "I just want you to tell me again," she said softly, stepping closer, "that part about how you feel."

The faint crease between his brows faded as he held her gaze, his eyes searching hers. Then he stepped forward, slowly reaching for her, and gently touched her cheek.

"I love you, Hermione."

That was all she needed to hear.

Any doubt she might have had instantly vanished, as did the space between them. Her heart leapt at his words, and so did she. Her lips crashed into his and fireworks erupted. Magic sparked at this first kiss between them since what felt like ages ago, and as he wrapped his arms around her the magic permeated throughout her entire being, coursing through the blood in her veins, seeping deeply into her very soul, invigorating and fulfilling her with unbelievable joy.

When they broke their kiss, she felt breathless and buoyant like she was floating toward the stars while still grounded firmly to earth by Remus's embrace. He was beaming, dazzling colors flashing over his face as she gazed up at him dazedly, and blasts and booms filled her ears as she tried to catch her breath. Then, at the same time, she and Remus turned and looked upward. Fireworks were bursting in the sky above the field neighboring the Burrow — the Weasley twins' surprise for tonight's celebration.

"Oh, I thought . . ." Hermione began, but she broke off. She smiled sheepishly, feeling silly that she'd believed the fireworks she'd perceived while they'd kissed had been an extraordinary result from their contact, that special feeling other girls described when they'd had a great kiss, and nothing more ordinary like actual, literal fireworks going off in their proximity.

Remus, however, was wearing a sheepish look of his own.

"I did too," he confessed.

"But the magic," she said, referring to what felt like a warm, gentle glow swelling within her and flowing between them, tingling everywhere their bodies touched, "that's real?"

"As real as you and me."

Then she wasn't being silly after all. Something extraordinary _had_ resulted from their kiss and the sentiment behind it, and she could feel the same magic she felt from the rose now drawing Remus and herself closer. Not physically, but connecting them more deeply somehow.

The feeling of the magic, wonderful as it was, was a bit overwhelming. Hermione steadied herself by holding on to Remus, who was watching her curiously.

"So you feel it too?" she asked, breathless again.

"I always feel magic with you. I love you."

She beamed at him. She knew she'd never tire of hearing him say that, nor would she tire of replying to him as she did now.

"I love you too, Remus."

She could feel his smile as he pressed his lips to hers, his fingers brushing against the chain of her necklace as they slid into her hair, and his smile only got bigger when he pulled back again, tugging the heart pendant out from beneath her dress.

"You're wearing it," he said in surprise, running his thumb over the words engraved on the necklace between them. "I haven't seen you wear this since. . . . I was afraid you'd changed your mind, that you'd given up on me."

"I knew we were being watched, and I didn't want to give McGonagall any reason to fire you. And I was also afraid of getting my hopes up again," she admitted.

Remus went still, guilt plain in his eyes as he looked up at her. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I —"

"I know, Remus," she said softly, cutting off his apology. "I know."

"I'm going to make it up to you," he promised quietly.

Hermione was sure he would.

"Just kiss me," she said, pulling him close.

And he did. It struck her then, as his lips tenderly captured hers and she melted into his embrace, just how much she'd missed this, hungered for this, how much everything seemed to feel so right when she was with him, and how bereft she felt when they pulled apart again.

Remus cocked his head slightly as he considered her thoughtfully.

"What is it?" she asked.

"If my memory serves me right," he said slowly, "I owe you a dance." His lips curved into a smile at the way Hermione immediately lit up, and he added, "I'm only about, what, twenty years overdue?"

Hermione laughed. "Nearly twenty-two actually, but better late than never."

She eagerly took the hand he offered and remembered the butterflies she'd felt when he'd taken her hand the first time he'd asked her to dance in the past, then the disappointment that had swooped in when their dance had been forced to come to an end before it had really begun. That disappointment had only added to her longing to dance with Remus on Valentine's Day a few months ago, so much so that she'd dreamt about it.

But this was better, much better, than any dream she'd ever had.

The smile never left her face as they danced to the tune of the enchanted instruments, which was, strangely enough, accompanied splendidly by the beat from the whistling and blasts and fizzing of the fireworks. Remus expertly twirled her about and dipped her gracefully before drawing her into a close embrace when the music slowed.

As they swayed together among the roses, Hermione took everything in, the sights, the smells, the song, Remus — his handsome face illuminated by the glow from the lamps and fireworks, his sandy hair tousled by her fingers, his brilliant smile, his gorgeous green-gray eyes reflecting the same elation she felt inside — wanting to capture this moment, this feeling, exactly in her memory.

Once she'd successfully saved that in her memory bank, she said, "I saw you and my dad talking earlier. He seemed to like you."

Remus laughed. "I'm sure his opinion of me will change drastically once he finds out about us."

"So there's an 'us'?" Hermione's smile broadened.

"If you want there to be."

"More than anything."

She gave him a long, earnest kiss, hoping he could feel just how much she really did want this. A bit dizzy and drunk from the magic strengthening between them, she then rested her head on his shoulder as they continued to sway. She closed her eyes, breathing him in, and felt more content than she'd ever felt in her life.

"I'm fairly certain my mum already knows you're the one I've been in love with, and she seems to be okay with it," she said after a while, wanting to reassure him on the matter of her parents, which she knew he must be worried about. "At least she will be once I talk to her. And my dad — he'll be okay with us too when he sees how happy I am with you. They'll both be pleased for us."

"Do you truly think you could be happy with me?" Remus asked her quietly.

Hermione raised her head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. "I predict I'll be the happiest girl in the entire Muggle and Wizarding world."

A slow smile crossed his face. "Then I'll do everything in my power to make sure that prediction comes true."

He drew her into another kiss, and Hermione didn't want to ever break away from him. She wanted to hold him close, to make up for all the time they'd lost, and from the way he was kissing her she could tell that he did as well. There were no more reservations, no more regrets between them, just a need and an intense desire to finally be together.

Hermione suddenly pulled back.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, glancing around them. "It's just . . . I'm surprised we haven't been interrupted yet." Remus gave her an inquisitive look and she explained, "We seem to have the sort of luck that whenever we're having important conversations or moments like this, someone or something usually interrupts us. Haven't you noticed?"

As she spoke Hermione realized that more often than not what usually interrupted them was actually themselves, their insecurities — they'd stood in their own way. But Remus understood what she meant.

"Well," he said, a twinkle in his eyes, "no one's around to interrupt us this time."

"Er, actually," someone said before they could resume their kiss. Hermione and Remus turned to see George grinning at them. "Sorry, lovebirds, but you're wanted over yonder, Hermione. Our mums want some pictures of the graduates set to the background of Fred and mine's brilliant fireworks display. You'd better hurry. It's almost over."

Hermione sighed as George retreated.

"I suppose we should go join the others," she said to Remus.

"I suppose we should," he replied just as reluctantly.

They looked at each other a moment, and then their lips met again. The magic consumed Hermione so entirely that she likely wouldn't have noticed if the night had turned to morning while they were locked in this embrace. But Remus was sensible enough to not let that happen while her parents were in the vicinity looking for her.

"We really should go now," he murmured against her lips, and he kissed them a final time before pulling away.

"We'll continue this later?" she asked hopefully.

Hermione was warmly reassured by the promise in his smile.

* * *

 **A/N:** In the flurry of last-minute edits and general anxiety of posting the previous chapter, I forgot to mention that this story is nominated for the 2017 Marauder Medals in the Best Non Marauder category. If you'd like to vote and check out the other awards and nominations, you can do so through October 25th by going to shriekingshacksociety dot weebly dot com.

It's so lovely to be nominated again. Thank you :)

 **NEW A** **/N:** I just wanted to note that this chapter isn't the last. A couple more are still coming. It's just taking me longer than I'd hoped. Writer's block is terrible, especially when it hits this close to the end of the story, but I'm determined to get this done!


	46. Chapter 46

Soulmates.

Hermione knew it was the reason she'd sensed Remus's Patronus before it had come soaring through her bedroom window, the silver wolf speaking in his voice, telling her how much he missed her.

It was the reason she'd felt deliriously happy to be with him again half an hour later after going days without seeing him and didn't even mind the short hike he took her on to their picnic destination.

It was the reason she felt that special, subtle hint of magic hum through her now as she strolled hand in hand with him along the edge of the glittering lake after their picnic, her bare feet striding through the comfortably cool water.

"You were right," she told him, moving closer to his side. "This is exactly what I needed."

He smiled. "I'm glad to see you're more relaxed."

"Me too."

The last week, her first full week working at the Ministry, had left her stressed and anxious, so Remus had surprised her by bringing her here, a spot he'd once camped with James and Sirius and one of his favorite places. Being surrounded by the tranquil beauty of nature, under the beaming late-July sun, had indeed helped her unwind as he'd hoped.

Or perhaps she felt more at ease because she was with Remus again.

This summer with him had been the best she'd ever had. But her blissful holiday had gone too fast, and she'd been too busy with work to meet him the last few days. She'd missed him terribly and knew that their time together would only become more limited once classes at Hogwarts started up again. But she refused to think about that now. She'd rather enjoy this lovely summer day with him, and, as his younger self had once advised her long ago, stop and smell the roses.

Hermione took in a lungful of fresh air and sighed. "This place is so beautiful. I bet the sky looks gorgeous here at night."

"It does. The stars look as brilliant here as they do at Hogwarts."

"You must have a brilliant view of the stars from your cottage as well."

"Not quite like this, but there's a little clearing in the woods I like to go to. I've spent entire nights lying there, looking up at the stars. They feel closer there somehow."

"You'll have to show me sometime. I want to see all your favorite places."

"My favorite place is anywhere you are."

Hermione beamed.

Remus flashed her a smile and led her deeper into the water. "Can you swim?"

Swim? But she hadn't known she should bring a bathing suit. A mischievous urge struck her, though, as her fingertips grazed the surface of the water. "Of course I can. Can you duck?"

"What?"

Her hand hit the water, the splash she sent his way the answer to his question. Remus grinned and splashed her back, and the still, peaceful quiet around them was broken by the sounds of their laughter and splashing and teasing as they waded deeper into the lake.

Their splash fight soon turned into playful wrestling when Hermione pushed him under the water and he pulled her down with him. They reemerged together, entangled, but then he slipped out of her grasp and called for a truce. She replied with only a wicked smile, and he backed away toward the shallow water once more, eyeing her warily.

For good reason.

She lunged for him and tried to tackle him into the water again, but they ended up tumbling onto the shore instead. Hermione managed to spring back to her feet before he did and took off running in the grass. Her drenched clothes weighed her down, though, and she was breathless from laughter, so their chase didn't last long. Remus caught her almost immediately, seizing her wrist and hauling her to him so that she spun back around and slammed into his chest, trapped in his embrace.

Her smile faded as she met his gaze, his eyes dark with the shadow of the wolf. She understood then why he'd called for a truce and wanted to cut their swim short. The full moon was less than a week away and their wrestling must have triggered his wolfish instincts. Baiting him to chase her like she was his prey probably hadn't helped either.

Her spine tingled. She knew she should probably pull away from him. But he hadn't been avoiding physical contact with her today like he usually did during this lunar cycle, so perhaps she didn't need to. And she simply didn't _want_ to break from their embrace. In his arms was _her_ favorite place to be.

Whatever warning her instincts might have been giving her was drowned out by the magic flooding her veins, the magic luring them closer still. She'd realized recently that they always had to be touching when in each other's presence. If they weren't, she felt restless. Even when they were she wanted more. No matter how close they were, it was never enough. It was as though a part of her was reaching, grasping for something elusive; always seeking, wanting, _needing_ more. . . .

She cautiously pressed her lips to his cheek, testing his reaction, and was pleased when he didn't pull away. Instead his mouth found hers, but the touch of his lips was brief and left her wanting, an intense hunger stirring inside her. She hadn't realized until now just how much she'd been aching for his kiss during their time apart, and when he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, she wondered if the magic made him feel dizzy too.

"Hermione," he began hoarsely, but her mouth covered his, silencing his next words, and for a few glorious moments his demanding kiss appeased the gnawing hunger inside her.

Then he ripped himself away from her, leaving her grasping once more.

* * *

For the millionth time in his life Remus cursed his lycanthropy and tried to block out what he felt from Hermione as he returned to their picnic blanket. Considering the way the magic had been affecting them lately, perhaps it had been a bad idea for them to get together today when the full moon was so near.

After giving him a minute to cool off, Hermione joined him. She'd dried herself off with a spell like he had, so her hair was no longer dripping wet and her blouse was, gratefully, no longer soaked and sheer and clinging to her curves in a way that instantly roused the wolf.

"It still makes you uncomfortable to be with me before the full moon," she said quietly, sitting beside him. "But you've gotten better."

"I have." He took her hand, but it was more to remind himself than to prove it to her. His impulses, thankfully, weren't triggered so strongly by chaste contact like this anymore. "Letting go of some of my fears has given me better control like Dumbledore said. My instincts don't get mixed up like they used to and I don't feel the urge to bite. But my other impulses . . . I still struggle."

"Dumbledore said you wouldn't hurt me," she reminded him.

"Perhaps not, but every time I feel the wolf stir . . . I don't like feeling its presence. I've never liked to give in to those impulses, that wolfish lust."

"Is it very different than ordinary lust?"

"It's much more . . . intense."

"The reason I affect you more than anybody else is because of the magic, isn't it?"

"Yes. But it's different for the wolf. It's purely physical. Carnal. The bond between us . . . it's why I feel possessive." At her inquiring look, he reluctantly explained, not quite meeting her eyes, "When the wolf takes over, its only drive, my overwhelming instinct, is to claim what's mine — to claim you."

"Why haven't you?"

His gaze snapped back to hers.

Flushing slightly, she quickly added, "I mean, Dumbledore said it was better to give in to your feelings rather than suppress them."

He shook his head. "I'm not ready to give in to that part of my nature."

Hermione bit her lip. "If it helps," she said after a short pause, "I am."

Remus tensed as the implication of her words hit him.

"Despite what you seem to think," she continued, steadily holding his gaze as he stared at her, not quite able to believe what she was saying, "and despite what Vivienne said, I'm not so delicate and I'm not afraid."

"Vivienne?" She was the least of his interest right now, but he couldn't quite handle what else Hermione was telling him.

"I ran in to her at Honeydukes a few months ago. She told me I knew nothing about werewolves, and I wouldn't be able to give you what you need. But I want to, Remus."

Her words continued to stun him even as his inner wolf prepared to pounce.

It was true that she hadn't been afraid the night they'd been caught by McGonagall. Faced with his wolfish nature, she hadn't once tried to stop him, rather she'd been the one who'd initiated their embrace and had done nothing but urge him on like she'd done again just minutes ago. Out of fear and disgust at the reminder of his beastly condition, he had never liked to surrender to that part of his nature and lose himself in that way. But she seemed to want him to.

Realizing suddenly that he was holding her hand in a vise-like grip, Remus released it immediately.

"I . . . I'd prefer we didn't. . . . I've always abstained before the full moon."

Hermione gave a nod of understanding, but he could feel her disappointment wash through her as she stared at the hand he'd withdrawn. Then she looked up at him again, her voice soft as she asked, "After?"

His pulse picked up at the thought. He and Hermione had decided at the start to take things slow. They'd thought it best considering their circumstances and the fact that neither of them had been in a serious relationship before. And Remus wanted to make sure this could work between them, that she was absolutely sure about him, absolutely ready.

The way she was looking at him . . . she seemed sure.

"After," he agreed.

* * *

The full moon came and went as July came to a close, but the usual relief that filled Remus in the days following his transformation dissipated quickly.

"You're nervous," Hermione noted, peering up at him as they paused outside the gate at the Burrow. She squeezed his hand. "It'll be fine."

Remus squeezed her hand in return, unable to deny his nerves. All their friends were gathered here tonight for Harry's birthday, and he and Hermione were about to make their first real debut as a couple. Which meant everything was about to change.

While he and Hermione had by no means kept their relationship a secret, they'd mostly kept to themselves the last month since her graduation, in their own happy world where no one could burst their little bubble of bliss. Remus wasn't quite ready for all that was coming next, starting with the questions, the scrutiny, the judgment they were likely to receive tonight.

He also wasn't ready to face Mr. and Mrs. Granger again at the dinner he'd promised Hermione he'd go to so her parents could get to know him better, because despite what Hermione had told him he knew it would take a while for her parents to warm up to the idea of him dating their daughter. And he definitely wasn't ready for what Hermione might be subjected to later once the rest of the Wizarding community caught wind of their scandalous romance.

When fear threatened to overcome him he had to remind himself that Hermione knew what she was getting into, and this was what she wanted. She was much braver and stronger than he was when it came to matters like this. So he took a deep breath now, opened the gate, and led her toward the party.

She'd told him earlier that there was no need to worry tonight. All their friends already knew about them and seeing them together wouldn't be a big deal. Remus was grateful to find she was right. No one made any fuss about them — at least not until after dinner.

When Hermione went to help pass out Harry's birthday cake, Tonks, who was seated on Remus's other side, nudged him.

"So Hermione was the student you were talking about that time we had drinks at the Three Broomsticks. I wish you'd have told me."

"Would you have said anything different if you'd known?"

"Probably. Especially if you'd confided you had feelings for her too." She flashed him a peeved look for keeping this information from her, but then smiled. "Anyhow, I'm glad to see it worked out. You two are sweet together. You're both glowing."

Hermione indeed looked radiant when she returned with a slice of chocolate cake for each of them. Her hand slipped into his beneath the table, and Remus raised it to his lips, not caring nor fearing anymore who saw the affectionate gesture.

His smile faded only slightly when Molly caught his eye at the same moment that Hermione responded to his gesture with a kiss on his cheek.

"So, er," Molly said, looking between him and Hermione, "when — how did you two —"

"How did this come about?" Arthur finished for her.

Feeling everyone's gaze shift to them, Remus and Hermione exchanged a glance. Before either could respond, though, George said, "Thanks to you, Mum, and your roses."

Molly blinked. "My roses?"

"And some kind of old magic that's been working hard to get these dunderheads to realize their feelings for each other and give it a go."

"It's like a fairy tale," Ginny added, and she and Harry shot similar grins at the pair of them.

Everyone looked at Remus and Hermione expectantly, expressions intrigued.

"Well, it — it's a long story," Hermione said.

"Not really," George contradicted. "It's your typical tale of romance where guy innocently picks flower for girl and activates a powerful magic unbeknownst to them. Girl privately swoons and gets thrown back in time where a younger version of guy befriends her and she realizes she's in love with the fellow. Then she returns to the present where guy eventually realizes he's in love with her as well but is too concerned about propriety and other nonsense to do a thing about it. But with help from the rose and its magic and yours truly," he said, pointing to himself smugly before motioning back to Remus and Hermione, "boom — happy couple."

Everyone's gazes returned to them in amazement.

"Wait — you time traveled?" Tonks asked, gaping at Hermione. "That's incredible!"

As he and Hermione began answering everyone's questions about the time travel and the rose's magic, keeping the more personal details to themselves, Remus was relieved no reproving looks were being shot his way from Molly or anybody else. He recalled it was partly because of the high opinion of him Molly had expressed to Mrs. Granger on graduation night that Hermione's mother was giving him a chance.

The tension slowly draining from him, Remus eased back in his seat and was able to fully enjoy the rest of the evening.

"You see," Hermione said when they had a moment alone later in the garden. "I told you it would be fine." She pressed her lips to his then smiled. "I love it when our kisses taste like chocolate."

"I much prefer the taste of you."

Only when a light blush crept into her cheeks did Remus realize he'd said it aloud. But it was true, and when she kissed him again he was left craving for more.

So at the end of the night, not yet willing to part from her when it came time to go home, he asked, "Would you like to come to my place for a while? It's a nice night for stargazing."

"I'd love to."

A short while later they were lying in the clearing in the woods he'd told her about at the lake the week before, but they weren't gazing at the stars anymore. They were lost in a kiss, the magic between them stirring like a gentle breeze.

Remus wouldn't mind staying lost like this forever. He'd meant what he'd told her about his favorite place being with her. He thanked his lucky stars every day for the woman in his arms. He hadn't realized until being with Hermione just how lonely and heavy his heart had always been, how much joy he'd been missing out on. Now he was bursting with it and constantly felt dazed by his own happiness.

When they at last broke their kiss, a slow smile formed on Hermione's lips.

"It was on a night we were gazing at the stars like this that we had our first kiss," she said, gazing up at him. "And it was exactly one year ago tonight that you gave me the rose."

"And our fairy-tale romance began," he added sarcastically.

"If this is happily ever after," she told him, stroking his cheek, "everything we went through was worth it." She drew him into another kiss, then pulled back, her gaze shifting to the hand she slid down his chest. "The magic," she said softly, as if she could see it trailing her touch like the trail of light made by a shooting star. "I'd always sensed there was something between us, but it wasn't until graduation night that I could feel it clearly. It must have somehow grown stronger that night."

"We'd both finally given in to it wholeheartedly," he said, idly stroking her arm before running his hand down her waist. He was incapable of keeping his hands off her. "I wasn't keeping my feelings from you anymore."

"But if there's this connection between us," she said slowly, "why can't I feel what you feel like you can feel what I do?"

"I suppose I only feel it because I'm a werewolf. My senses are sharper and I perceive magic more deeply."

"Or maybe it's because something's missing. The bond between us . . . it hasn't quite properly snapped into place yet, has it?"

So she felt the same incompleteness he did, the same strange hunger and burning desire.

No, it was more than desire — it was a need, an aching need growing ever stronger and fueled by the magic rushing through them, flowing between them, engulfing them so completely he felt like he was drowning in it, gasping for air only she could provide. He was amazed he hadn't yet given in.

"I wish I could feel what you feel," she sighed. "It's only fair."

"I don't know if you'd like it," he said, glancing down at her necklace, his eye caught by the pendant gleaming in the moonlight. "Especially before the full moon. It's . . . overwhelming."

"What exactly do you feel from me?"

He took her hand and pressed it against his chest so she could feel the thumping of his heart.

"I feel this: your heart beating inside me as if it were my own. I can feel your heart swell when you're happy, and I can feel when you're upset or afraid."

"What else?" she asked tentatively.

He lowered his gaze to the heart pendant on her chest, taking it between his fingers.

"Please tell me, Remus. I want to know."

He hesitated a moment longer, fiddling with the necklace, then laid it back down and flattened his hand over her heart. "I can feel," he said slowly, quietly, "your pulse quicken when we get close. I can feel the heat rush to your cheeks when you blush and . . . your shiver when we touch." She arched slightly beneath his fingers as he trailed them down her sternum, her breath hitching, and his own pulse quickened at her responsiveness. "I — I can feel the tension build inside you," he continued, lightly drawing patterns on her stomach, "your anticipation, your apprehension . . . your longing and desire. . . ."

For a moment she was silent and very still, and he worried he'd made her self-conscious. Then she whispered, "Can you feel it now?" and it was his turn to go rigid. He held his breath, his eyes searching hers, until she said, "It's after, Remus."

Thank Merlin for that.

He could taste the magic as he kissed her, taste her need, her urgency mingling with his own. But before he was too far gone, he drew back and helped her to her feet.

Though the moonlight was bright, he conjured his Patronus to better light their way as they started through the woods toward his cottage. Hermione conjured hers as well, and Remus smiled at the sight of their wolves weaving through the trees before them, nudging each other playfully along the way. He'd spent most of his life disguising and denying his Patronus, but he'd grown rather fond of it recently — now that he'd seen its mate.

 _His_ mate.

Soulmate.

* * *

The entire world seemed to be touched by magic tonight.

Hermione saw it in everything, from the radiance of their Patronuses dispersing the shadows in the woods and illuminating the path before them, to the brilliance of the moon brightening the night sky and pouring through the windows at Remus's cottage, casting its interior with a romantic glow.

But where she saw the magic strongest was in Remus's eyes, and she felt it keenest in the rush of his kiss. If not for his steadying embrace, she would have been staggering, drunk as she was with the magic between them.

They crashed through his bedroom door, her heart racing as they kissed. Eager as she was, though, she was glad for the chance to catch her breath when Remus slowed things down.

He twirled her around so her back was to him and swept her hair forward to unclasp the necklace that had once belonged to his mother. He set it on the dresser where the magic rose also lay. Hermione smiled, taking the flower in her hand.

"Did it help?" she asked, raising a brow at Remus as he removed his watch. She'd given him the rose the day before she'd started her job at the Ministry so he wouldn't miss her too much when they couldn't see each other.

Remus shook his head. "It only made me miss you more."

After toeing off his shoes, he stepped behind her, placing his hands on her hips. A pleasant shiver traveled through her when his mouth touched her neck. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access as he slowly nuzzled his way up, drawing a sigh from her lips. Then he pressed a kiss behind her ear and murmured, "Are you sure, my love?"

"Yes. Absolutely sure." She'd wanted this for a long time.

Remus turned her face toward him and brushed his lips against hers, the gentle touch resonating in her core. Her blood singing, simmering, with the magic, Hermione marveled at how even the lightest, briefest contact with him could have such a profound effect on her.

The rose slipped from her fingers and back onto the dresser as he engaged her in a slow, sensual kiss. She felt dizzy and weak and exhilarated all at once, her muscles jumping and tensing in anticipation beneath his touch as his hand skimmed down her throat, her stomach, and across her hips before he spun her around to face him again.

As she deepened their kiss, her fingers threaded through his soft, thick hair, tugging gently, then moved to his shirt, swiftly undoing the buttons and pushing it off. Her hands roamed the contours of his lean body, and she delighted in the way his breath hitched when her touch traveled low down his abdomen.

"Gorgeous," she whispered, drinking in the sight of him. Although more scars covered him than when he'd been a teenager, they only enhanced his attractiveness, and she showered him with kisses, her lips moving along his jaw, his neck, his shoulders and chest, before she returned her mouth to his, sucking gently on his lower lip.

He slid his hands down her back, pulling her body flush against his, and a soft moan escaped her at the feel of him hard against her. Aching in a way she'd grown rather used to lately, Hermione abruptly pushed him back until he was sitting on his bed then kicked off her flats and climbed on his lap. She'd taken him by surprise but Remus recovered quickly, pushing her skirt up her thighs as she settled herself, making it easier for her to sit astride him.

He entangled his hand in her hair as they kissed and only tore his mouth from hers when he stripped off her blouse. He unclasped her bra as well and pressed kisses to her shoulders and down her arms as he slipped it off, then pulled back, eyes darkening as he gazed at her topless for the first time.

Slowly, raising goosebumps on her skin, his hands skimmed up her waist to her breasts. His thumbs brushed across their peaks, and Hermione gasped at the delectable sensation, reflexively pushing her chest into his hands. Her heart sped up when the heat of his gaze met hers. The faintest shadow of the wolf flickered across his features even though the full moon had already passed, and she instinctively knew the wolf was demanding Remus finally claim what was his.

He reclaimed her lips with a fervor that electrified her, one hand back in her hair, the other running up her thigh, the feel of his calloused hand against her skin delicious and his bare chest against hers heavenly. And when his mouth trailed down her throat, her collarbone, to her chest —

Remus groaned and suddenly gripped her hips hard. Hermione barely had time to register that she'd been rocking into him unconsciously when in one swift move he had her lying on her back beneath him.

"Are you taking contraceptive potion?" he asked, hovering over her.

"Yes," she breathed and reached for his belt. But he took her hand before she could remove his trousers and pinned it to the bed beside her, his fingers interlaced with hers.

He trailed feather-light kisses along her jaw before recapturing her lips with his own. Releasing her hand, he dragged his up her hip and waist and settled on her breast, caressing her, teasing her, sending jolts of pleasure through her, which doubled when he lowered his mouth to her other breast. She bit her lip, stifling some of her sighs and moans, but when Remus suddenly drew back an involuntary whimper escaped her.

He glanced between her eyes and mouth, and then freed her bottom lip from her teeth with his thumb. "Don't hold back."

"I won't if you won't."

His smile met hers, and he gently tugged on her bottom lip as he pulled away and moved south.

He kissed his way down between her breasts and down her stomach, every brush of his fingers and touch of his lips setting her alight so she was gasping and squirming by the time his mouth reached her hips. He had to gently hold her in place as he kissed across them, lingering near each hipbone before he tugged her skirt down the length of her legs. His fingers grazed her foot as he slipped off the fabric and Hermione was unable to hold back her squeal.

Remus's eyes snapped to hers.

"My — my feet are very ticklish," she explained through her giggles.

He gazed down at her in amusement. "I gathered as much." Then, before she could stop him, he ran his finger up the bottom of her foot.

"Remus!" she shrieked, jerking away from him as she squealed again with laughter.

"Sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all. "It was too . . . tempting."

His eyes roamed over her figure on that last word, feasting on her, the laughter in them fading as they darkened again with desire.

"You are perfection, Hermione, in every way."

His low, husky voice, the intensity of his gaze, had her flushing all over, and she was too warm despite the fact she was nearly naked.

Remus seized her ankle and cautiously touched his lips to her instep. A thrill shot straight to the ache between her thighs, an even more maddening sort of tickle, but she didn't shriek or yank herself free this time. She watched with bated breath as Remus moved between her legs, his hand sliding up her calf.

He pressed his lips to the inside of her knee then moved to the other, coaxing her legs farther apart. Muscles deep inside her clenched as he started slowly kissing his way up her inner thigh. She clutched the bedsheets, her anticipation soaring as he went higher and higher, closer and closer until his lips brushed against her underwear and she nearly came undone.

His mouth returned to hers and she kissed him fiercely, drunk with the magic and her body ablaze, warm and tingly all over. She was burning and squirming with an overwhelming need, and her ache for him only deepened when his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear. She didn't know how much more of his teasing she could take. It was too much, yet she wanted — needed — _more_.

Her hands groped down his body, and he inhaled sharply when she reached his trousers, a gratifying sound to her ears that spurred her to tear off the rest of his clothes as quickly as possible. But nerves suddenly struck her as she took in the sight of him.

She laid her head back on his pillow, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as he slowly peeled away from her the last garment between them. He muttered something under his breath as his gaze traveled over her, but she couldn't quite catch what it was over the beating of her heart, which went wilder when he positioned himself between her thighs. Her nerves heightened at the feel of him pressed against her, and she braced herself for what was coming next.

But it didn't come.

"Hermione . . . do you remember the first time we met in the past?"

She blinked up at him, his unexpected question momentarily throwing her. "Of course. How could I forget."

He stroked her cheek, a tenderness mixing in with the simmering desire in his eyes. "I think I knew from that very first moment I was yours," he said softly. "I think part of me knew since that first time you were in my arms you were the one I wanted to be with, the one I was meant to love. And I do love you. More than you can possibly know."

Deeply touched by his words, Hermione cupped his cheek with her hand, her thumb brushing over his lips. "Enlighten me, then."

He smiled. "I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to enlighten you."

 _The rest of his life!_ Joy rushed through her. "I love you too, Remus. More than I can put into words."

He leaned into her touch, brushing his lips against her palm, then lowered his mouth to hers. When he pulled back from their kiss, he began to press into her.

He went slowly, slowly, easing in inch by inch until he was fully, snugly inside her. Only then was Hermione able to properly exhale. Remus caressed her cheek and kissed the corner of her mouth before resting his head on his arm beside her, his eyes shut and jaw clenched, giving her time to adjust to the unfamiliar feeling.

Though there was a bit of discomfort, it wasn't painful like she'd imagined it would be. Gradually relaxing again, she realized how hard she'd been clutching Remus, her nails digging into his skin. She rubbed her fingers soothingly over the marks she'd left and kissed his shoulder. Remus raised his head to greet her lips with his own.

"Okay?" he asked, examining her closely.

"Yes."

He kissed her cheek comfortingly. Then he began to move.

Hermione failed to keep from digging her fingers into him again as he gently rocked into her, drawing back slightly before pressing back in, stretching her, filling her, the new sensations overwhelming at first, but . . . stirring. Pleasurable as her slight discomfort ceased.

His lips captured hers in a tender kiss, and she surrendered to the intoxicating magic pulsing through her, to the sensation, to Remus, his slow and steady rhythm, his body, and found her own responding instinctively. He groaned the first time her hips met his, and his next thrust made her cry out.

He eased up again. "If you want to stop —"

"No," she said quickly, breathless, clutching him to her.

A smile flitted across his face. He pressed into her again and his kiss absorbed the moan he elicited from her when he slowly, delectably, circled his hips. She ran her hands down his back, urging him for more. Remus obliged her, repeating the small circular motion with his hips and thrusting again.

He was moving more freely than before, and his kisses on her mouth and neck, sweet and tender a minute ago, were searing now. Hermione welcomed his fire with her own, losing herself completely to her desires and the magic blazing between them and the sweet, exquisite ache that sharpened within her with his each and every stroke, driving her wild.

She felt a small flutter deep inside her when he gripped her thigh and hiked her leg up higher on his waist. His pace quickened and her legs tightened around him, a touch of panic sweeping through her as the pressure, the tension inside her intensified, threatening to burst. She was going to shatter, explode into a million pieces, or lose her mind if she didn't soon. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, her head tipping back as she drifted toward ecstasy.

His gentle touch reassuring amid this towering swell of sensation, Remus cupped her face, fingers sliding into her hair and thumb brushing against her cheek, and her eyes fluttered back open. When they locked with his, something powerful flared between them, taking her breath away. Everything disappeared around them. Nothing in the world existed but Remus and these feelings. Entwined with his, her body was more alive than it had ever been, and her soul was singing, the magic between them bolting through her like lightning, surging, bursting, binding.

A second heartbeat hammered against her chest and a fierce pleasure that was not her own overcame her, adding to the growing pressure within, the throbbing ache, the delicious tension, intensifying to the point it was almost torturous, unbearable —

She trembled, then stiffened, her body arching into his, and relief came in an explosion that left her shuddering and blinded. Waves of pleasure rocked her as she clenched around him, and he gave one last erratic thrust before going still inside her.

For a few moments, their ragged breaths mingled and their hearts beat like one between them. Then Remus slowly pulled out of her and collapsed on the bed beside her.

She didn't know how long they lay there quietly in their euphoric daze, immersed in the magic, spent yet invigorated at the same time, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. Gradually, though, Hermione's heart and breathing slowed to normal, and Remus's hand slipped into hers. She turned to him and found in his expression a hint of the same awe she felt. The magic . . . it had been incredible.

Remus brushed her hair away from her face, gazing at her as if she didn't look the mess she imagined she did. He, however, looked more gorgeous than ever under the strange, shimmering light that washed over them. Recognizing the source of that magical light at the same time, they turned in unison to the dresser.

The rose was glowing, more dimly than it must have been before, Hermione thought, remembering the blinding flash of light earlier that she'd assumed had been a figment of her altered state of mind. She giggled, realizing the rose must have ignited at the moment of their climax — the moment the bond between them had sealed. Was that why it had magicked them into bed together twice, to lure them to consummate their love and seal the bond?

Playfully, but very serious, she asked Remus, "Do you think we can make the rose light up again?"

A slow smile crossed his face. "We can certainly try."

Hermione grinned. "Soulmates."

* * *

 **A/N:** It feels good to finally update again. Sorry for the long wait, but I hope you liked this one.

One chapter left!


	47. Chapter 47

**Epilogue**

"Still working?"

Remus looked up from his desk at the sound of his wife's voice. Hermione stood at the door of the study, leaning against its frame. The image of her in her pale blue nightdress — his favorite — made his pulse quicken.

"I'm nearly finished," he promised. "I only have a few more papers left to mark."

Apparently unsatisfied with his response, Hermione came into the room and stepped behind his chair, wrapping her arms around him as he continued marking papers. She kissed and nipped his neck in the most enticing of ways, but partly out of stubbornness to get his work done and partly out of amusement, he did his best to ignore the impulses her touch and scent inspired.

"You are infuriating," she muttered in his ear when he refused to put aside his work. "Can't you finish that some other time?"

"I could," he admitted, fighting his smile as her teeth captured his earlobe. "But aren't you the one who says, 'Don't put off till tomorrow what you can do today'?"

"Exactly," she said, coming around the chair to sit on his lap. "Don't put me off till tomorrow, Remus."

The corners of her mouth twitched up as his eyes met hers and his restraint snapped. His lips crushed hers in an urgent kiss, and papers flew everywhere as he swiped his desk clear and laid her down upon it.

It didn't matter that the full moon was only a few nights away. He no longer feared the wolf stirring within or surrendering to the part of his nature he'd once denied. He knew he'd never hurt Hermione. On the contrary. The full moon seemed to have an effect on her as well. She needed this, craved this, as much as he did. And she was nearly as insatiable as he was. He could never get enough of her, the taste of her, the warmth and thrill of her caress, and his favorite place remained here, surrounded by her, lost in the magic between them.

Later in bed, Hermione fell fast asleep in his arms while he basked in the magic's lingering glow, filled with gratitude for her love. He'd never taken it for granted that he was the luckiest man in the world, lucky to be with her, to be able to tease her and please her, love her and worship her the way she deserved; lucky she'd said yes when he'd proposed to her instead of hexing him into oblivion because of a misunderstanding. . . .

 _Remus headed to the Room of Requirement one autumn evening for the biweekly Defense Club meeting. Due to its popularity, he'd decided to continue the club the year following Hermione's graduation, though they met less often than before. He'd been pleased by his students' enthusiasm to keep it going but had been much less thrilled by Professor Avila's new interest in it. Despite his objections, Olivia had insisted on taking over Hermione's old role and being his assistant._

 _It had become clear to him over the first few weeks of term that Hermione had been right when she'd informed him his colleague had feelings for him. Since Olivia had become bolder in letting her feelings be known, he couldn't put it off any longer. He needed to talk to her tonight._

 _He expected Olivia would be already setting up in the Room of Requirement when he arrived, so not only was he relieved that she wasn't yet there, he was pleasantly surprised to find Hermione waiting for him inside._

" _My love — I didn't know you were —"_

" _You fool!"_

 _Remus leapt to the side, narrowly escaping the hex Hermione fired his way. She immediately shot another, and he only just managed to draw his wand in time to block it._

" _Hermione, what are you —"_

" _You._ _A_ _re._ _I_ _nfuriating_ _!" she shouted, punctuating each word with another hex hurled at him. He dodged and deflected them all, backing away from her in alarm and bewilderment as she attacked, her anger radiating off of her like the roaring flames of a_ _Norwegian Ridgeback_ _. He'd never seen her so upset._

" _You're pushing me away again!" she cried. "I can't_ believe _you let them get to you. I love you, Remus, and you love me, and that's all that matters!"_

 _Despite the romantic proclamation, she didn't cease her attack, and one of her_ _spells_ _nearly landed its mark as the realization of why she was so upset struck him: the_ Daily Prophet _. Rumors of their romance had made it into the paper last week, and Hermione must have thought . . . But how could she think that?_

 _He deflected her next spell and caught her off guard by firing one of his own, anger suddenly rising within him as well. But he wasn't angry at her. He was angry wit_ _h_ _himself. Because his cowardice was the reason why she'd thought the worst._

 _So he began to fight back, his movements swift and sharp, the strength of his unexpected spells causing Hermione to stumble back. She recovered quickly, however, and fought back harder, their magic clashing explosively between them. This fiery dance of theirs, it was different_ _from_ _any other duel they'd had before, and he only now fully appreciated how ferocious Hermione could be and how evenly matched they were even when he unleashed his full power on her._

 _Looking more furious than ever, she suddenly rushed forward,_ _and f_ _earing she'd forgotten about magic and was about to slug him or jab her wand in his eye or something equally unpleasant,_ _Remus_ _took advantage of her momentary lapse in defense and struck first, disarming her. A heartbeat later he had her in her arms and she was_ _beside herself with anger_ _._

" _You went easy on me all those times we dueled last year despite me asking you not to and you decide_ now _is the right time to quit holding back?"_ _she said through gritted teeth, struggling_ _to break_ _herself_ _free_ _from_ _his grasp._

" _Yes," he_ _replied_ _brusquely, refusing to let her go. "Marry me."_

 _The words left his mouth before he knew what he was saying._

 _Hermione_ _stopped struggling against him, her jaw dropping as her look of formidable fury transformed into utter shock. "_ _W-what_ _?"_

 _Remus released her and silently cursed himself as he slowly stepped back. He'd wanted his proposal to be romantic and special, not blurted out in the middle of a fight._

 _Hermione's wide eyes searched his, desperate for answers._

" _Remus?" she said when the silence had stretched too long, her tone demanding that he explain himself._

 _He sighed and handed her back her wand, grateful when she didn't immediately turn it on him again. "Considering the way I've acted in the past, I understand why you'd think I was pushing you away."_

 _They'd talked the day the_ _article about them had appeared in the_ Daily Prophet _, but he should have reassured her more. He should have known she'd grow anxious not seeing him_ _the past several days_ _. Although she'd moved out of her parents' house and into a flat with Ginny_ _over_ _the summer, she spent half her nights_ _out_ _with him_ _or_ _at his cottage, and he should have known she'd worry that more was going on than him simply being too busy to meet her._

" _But I'm not the same as I was then, Hermione. I'm not pushing you away. It's just that we've both been very busy lately. But as soon as things slowed down a bit, I was planning on taking you somewhere special and — well, asking you to marry me."_

 _"You —" Her brow furrowed. "Is that why you've been acting strange?"_

 _"I didn't realize I was."_

 _"A couple of weeks ago, the last night we were at your cottage, you seemed . . . nervous."_

 _"I was," he admitted, remembering the night she spoke of. "I'd forgotten to put the ring away before you came over."_

 _Her eyebrows rose. "Ring?"_

 _"Your engagement ring." He hoped the look on her face was simply one of surprise and not panic. "You nearly stumbled across it before I had the chance to hide it. I was nervous about what you'd have said if you had found it."_

 _"You can't seriously think I'd say no?"_

 _He smiled wryly. "Would you really want to spend the rest of your life with an infuriating fool like me, Hermione Jean Granger?"_

 _Her eyes softened as she gazed at him. "But . . . what happened to going slow?"_

 _"What's the point if we're soulmates?" he replied, making her grin. He knew how much she loved the term Dumbledore had once used to describe them. "And besides, I'm not getting any younger."_

 _Hermione choked on a laugh. Then she stepped back into his arms, her eyes bright as she took his face in her hand. "I would love nothing more than to marry you, Remus John Lupin."_

 _His heart soared as she sealed their engagement with a kiss. But then a roar of noise made the pair jump apart. They looked toward the door to find the entire Defense Club piling into the room, applauding and cheering them. Remus hadn't heard when they'd arrived, but they appeared to have been quietly huddled by the door, spying on them. He exchanged a sheepish look with Hermione at having been caught by his students like this, but he couldn't help but grin as they all congratulated them._

 _Only one among the group was unsmiling. Olivia's face was white and pinched as she glowered at Hermione before turning on her heel and storming out of the room. Too overjoyed to worry about_ _his colleague_ _now, Remus turned back to Hermione. Her misty eyes reflected his elation. . . ._

Not everyone had been as approving of their relationship as his students in Defense Club. The article in the _Daily Prophet_ that had first speculated about a possible romance between them, written by Rita Skeeter, had not been flattering. But fortunately his greatest fears had never come to pass.

Although he had McGonagall's personal support, he'd feared his job may be in jeopardy due to the scandal of his romance with a former student. But what had worried Remus more was the way Hermione would be affected. Her marriage to him, however, had not made her a pariah or impeded her success. She'd quickly moved up in her department at the Ministry, which was a testament to her incredible work and talent, and was perhaps also proof that she'd been right when she'd told him society was changing.

And she was a big part of that change. She'd dedicated the early part of her career to fighting for the fundamental rights and the more humane treatment of house-elves and to fighting against the discrimination of werewolves. Partly inspired by the story of his friend Hugh and his werewolf girlfriend, Rosalind, Hermione had also worked on creating programs that gave werewolves easier access to Wolfsbane Potion.

Though he, fortunately, hadn't lost his job after the public had learned of his relationship with Hermione, Remus had been the recipient of plenty of Howlers and scathing letters, which he'd expected. What he hadn't anticipated were the letters he'd received from other werewolves, letters which thanked him for showing it was possible to rise above the stigma surrounding their kind and for offering hope that stigma could someday soon be lifted.

Reading these had absolutely floored Remus. They'd also made him more appreciative than ever for his friends and for all the opportunities he'd been granted in his life, which he knew was really the only difference between him and the werewolves less fortunate than he was.

Sometimes he still couldn't believe his luck. Not only did he have the job he'd always wanted, but he was with the woman of his dreams. Part of him had always been skeptical of it all. Early on he'd found it hard to believe Hermione's parents were being so accepting of his relationship with her, even inviting him over to their home for dinner to get to know him better. He'd suspected her mother was only being polite at Hermione's request and her father was going along with it only because he believed their romance wouldn't last long. His daughter would soon grow out of her strange infatuation and come to her senses. In truth this was Remus's own lingering fear, that it was all too good to last.

But five years later Hermione was still by his side. It hadn't always been easy for them, but his happiness — _her_ happiness — blinded him from the looks, the murmurs, the gossip that may have followed in their wake. With Hermione by his side, he felt like he could bear anything they might face.

And to think he'd nearly rejected all this and missed out on his greatest joys. He should have known letting the magic guide him would not lead him astray but to where he was meant to be, to where he most wanted to be. No more regrets. Because he loved her and she loved him, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

It was early morning when Hermione awoke entangled with Remus. She shifted slightly under the arm he had wrapped around her waist and blinked sleepily until his face came into focus. He looked so peaceful and handsome in his sleep, even with the shadows under his eyes.

She'd once thought his dark circles and pallor in the days preceding the full moon were signs of illness and debilitation. Though they were signs his body was under stress due to his upcoming transformation, he certainly wasn't debilitated. In fact, he was more virile than ever before the full moon.

As evidenced last night. She smiled as she thought back to the previous night and the moments of tenderness between their rounds of animal passion as Remus carried her from the study to their bedroom.

Hermione's gaze lowered to her hand, her attention drawn to the ring glittering on her finger. Memories rushed back to her of the night when Remus had given it to her. She'd been so sure when she'd gone to Hogwarts that evening and confronted him in the Room of Requirement that he was panicking about what had been in the paper and everyone finding out about them and was going to break it off with her, thinking it was best for her. She never imagined she'd end up getting engaged.

She'd known, though, despite him telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, Remus was worried about how their relationship would affect her, and she'd sought to reassure him. . . .

 _As she lay_ _curled up_ _with Remus_ _at his cottage_ _, Hermione_ _gazed a_ _t the ring he'd put on her finger,_ _still unable to_ _believe_ _it._ _T_ _hey were now engaged when only hours ago she'd feared she'd lost him again. She_ _snuggled closer_ _to him_ _,_ _knowing that the fears she'd_ _thought_ _had overcome him may not have succeeded in_ _breaking them up_ _but were still very present._

 _"Remus,"_ _she sai_ _d softly_ _,_ _lightly_ _stroking his chest,_ _"I know it won't always be easy. There are some people who don't like that we're together,_ _who don't understand_ _. But I want you to know that I don't care what anyone says. I won't let_ _anyone get in the way of our happiness_ _."_

 _"Neither will I." He tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his. "For as long as you want me, for as long as I can make you happy, I'm going to fight for us. Now that you've accepted this —" he smiled as he indicated her ring — "I don't plan on letting you go so easily."_

He never did let her go, and she never let anyone get between them, not anymore. She grinned to herself as she remembered a time she and Remus had gotten together at the Three Broomsticks on an evening shortly after they'd gotten engaged — an evening Vivienne happened to be there as well.

Hermione may have been more affectionate than usual with Remus after she'd spotted Vivienne and had caught her staring at them. She may have also slyly flashed her engagement ring at the blonde in case she hadn't yet noticed it. She couldn't help it. The look on Vivienne's face had rivaled that of Professor Avila's when she'd witnessed them getting engaged, and a broad smile had spread across Hermione's face even though the way Vivienne was glaring at her had her feeling like she was staring into the eyes of the Basilisk again.

On the dresser across from their bed, highlighted by the glow of the morning sun, was one of Hermione's favorite photographs taken on that spring day she and Remus had gotten married a few months after that encounter with Vivienne. The photo captured a moment just before they'd had their first dance as husband and wife. They were sharing a loving look between them reminiscent of the one in the other framed photograph on the dresser, the one Lily had taken of them in the past when Hermione and the teenage Remus were sitting together by the fireplace.

Hermione's gaze shifted to the nightstand. She carefully reached for the rose lying there, trying not to wake Remus, but he began to stir as soon as she pulled away from him. She rolled back onto her side to face him.

"Good morning, my love," she whispered, caressing his cheek with the rose.

He smiled at her sleepily. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Mhmm. You? You're up early."

"It's a special day."

"Indeed."

He took the rose from her hand and caressed her in turn with the soft petals. She shivered at the titillating sensation of the magic as he dragged the flower along the bare skin of her arm and chest, then trailed it down her nightdress, stopping at her navel.

"How's Remus Jr.?"

"It's too soon to know if it's a boy or a girl," she reminded him as he rubbed her stomach. She wasn't even showing yet. "It could be Hermione Jr."

"I have a feeling it's going to be a boy."

He said it with such confidence Hermione fully believed it would turn out to be true, and she wondered if his werewolf senses made it possible for him to know such a thing.

Remus shifted down the bed to kiss her belly, then sat up. "Craving anything? I was planning on making you breakfast in bed —"

"No, stay," she said, tugging him back. "Let's just lie here a little while longer."

Unopposed to the suggestion, Remus cuddled up with her again, and she sighed, cozy and content. But not a minute had passed when he raised his head again, listening to something she couldn't hear. "Rose is up."

Seconds later Hermione heard the patter of footsteps and their eighteen-month-old daughter popped into their bedroom, her bushy hair wild.

"Mummy! Daddy!"

"Rosie!" Hermione squealed in return.

Rose rushed toward them, her arms outstretched, and Remus swept her up into his own, his grin matching hers.

Then his expression turned suspicious. "How long have you been up, Rosie? You were being awfully quiet."

Rose flashed them a smile.

"Uh oh," Hermione said, eyeing her daughter with playful suspicion as well. "What were you doing? You're smiling the same way your dad does when he's been up to no good."

"Have you been up to no good, Rosie?" Remus asked, tickling her and grinning as she giggled and squealed. "You may have my smile, but you have your mother's laugh."

The laughter that burst from Hermione when he tickled her next demonstrated his point, and Hermione immediately retaliated against this sneak attack. More giggles bubbled out of Rose as she watched her parents tickle each other. Then she jumped on them to join the fun. Hermione had to fight against both her daughter and husband until Rose switched her allegiance and teamed up with her against Remus. The three of them were all breathless and teary-eyed by the time they ended their tickle fight and finally got out of bed.

Sausages sizzled in the kitchen a short while later as Hermione started on breakfast while Remus and Rose played in the living room. Hermione peeked in to see they'd built a rather impressive fort out of blankets and were playing inside with Rose's stuffed animals. Rose was handing her toys over to Remus one by one, all except for the wolf she called Woofy. This one she kept for herself.

Woofy was Rose's absolute favorite toy, one she'd picked out herself. It had been curious, but it shouldn't have been surprising really, that out of all the toys in the shop Rose had been immediately drawn to this one.

Hermione smiled as she watched Remus with their daughter. She loved seeing him like this, lighthearted and playful. Looking at him now, laughing and carefree, she was reminded of a comment Ginny had made about him soon after they'd married. Ginny had noted that Remus looked more youthful, years younger than she'd ever seen him. Ron and Harry had agreed, and George had earned himself a smack on the arm from both his sister and Hermione for muttering under his breath, "Well, sleeping with a much younger woman could do that to a man."

Hermione, though, had taken Harry's view. Remus looked younger now because he'd finally found peace within himself and was truly happy at last, happy like she was. He had the family he'd thought he could never have, and she could see how much he cherished them. She'd never forget the first time he'd held Rose in his arms the night she was born, the way he'd looked at his daughter with such love and amazement, his eyes glistening with tears, and she'd seen every day since then how much joy Rose brought him with her cuteness and cleverness and even her moments of mischief.

Hermione knew he would miss Rose as terribly as she would while they were away this weekend. But she hadn't anticipated just how difficult it would be to part from their daughter.

Later that day, as soon as she'd stepped out of her parents' house where Rose was staying while they were gone, Hermione had to fight the urge to turn back for her.

Remus caught her hesitation. "You're worried."

"Rose has never been away from us this long. What if she misses us too much and can't get to sleep tonight and —"

"We can always come back for her if there's any trouble. But she'll be fine. Your parents are going to spoil her rotten and she'll be having too much fun to miss us."

It was true that Rose always loved visiting her grandparents. Hermione was actually a bit jealous of the way her mum and dad were much more playful and generous with sweets with Rose than they'd been with her when she was a child. She supposed that was simply the nature of being a grandparent.

"Perhaps we should have left Rose with Harry and Ginny," Remus mused as they continued down the garden path. "Given them some practice."

Hermione grinned at the thought. Ginny was also expecting, but it was her and Harry's first child, and Hermione knew Harry was a little anxious about becoming a father. "Next time. Mum and Dad have been looking forward to having Rose this weekend."

Despite her worries over Rose, Hermione too had been looking forward to this weekend she and Remus would be spending alone together.

And their destination, a cozy cottage by the beach, couldn't have been more beautiful.

The first thing they did upon arriving to the cottage was take a long walk on the secluded beach. It wasn't long before the sun began to set, vivid colors streaking across the sky as it sank toward the horizon, the brilliant hues bleeding together to create an image more breathtaking than even the most skilled artist could paint.

"Happy anniversary, my love," Remus said, drawing her into an embrace.

She pressed her lips to his. "Happy anniversary, Remus."

She turned around in his arms, resting the back of her head against his chest as she lifted her face to the sky. Basking in the glow of the fiery sunset, she said, "This feels like a dream."

"What does?"

"All of it. You and me. Walking here on the beach as the sun sets." She gestured to the stunning sky. "What could be more romantic than this?"

"Dancing on the beach as the sun sets?" Remus suggested.

Hermione laughed and followed his lead as he engaged her in a waltz, their music the soothing sounds of the waves and then Remus's humming. The sand made it a bit difficult to be graceful, though, and Hermione's feet fumbled when Remus tried to twirl her. She stumbled into him and took them both down to the ground.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed with a giggle after landing upon him. But she didn't remove her weight. She cocked her head thoughtfully as she gazed down at him, her curtain of hair brushing the side of his amused face. "I feel like I've fallen into your arms an unusual amount of times over the years."

She'd first noticed this during her final year at Hogwarts. Whether she was quite literally running into him in the corridor or clumsily stumbling into him after a snowball fight, she'd accidentally ended up in his arms a curious amount of times. Perhaps it was because in his embrace was where she'd most wanted to be.

Thinking along similar lines, Remus said, "Must be the magic drawing us together."

"Must be."

She leaned in for a kiss and smiled when Remus reversed their positions, thinking this — rolling around on the beach as the sun set — might be most romantic of all.

They returned to the cottage as twilight fell, and half an hour later Remus led Hermione out to the deck where they were having dinner.

"Mmm." Hermione breathed in the mouthwatering scents of the meal her husband had prepared, as always impressed by his cooking skills. "This is lovely, Remus."

He'd set the table with candles and rose petals, but her gaze paused on the vase at the center holding the flower they had named their daughter after, the flower that had started it all: the rose Remus had offered her one summer night and she had wholeheartedly accepted, the rose which represented their love. She was grateful, on this day of their wedding anniversary especially, for its magic for helping them get together.

But she remembered what Dumbledore had told her. It wasn't actually the rose itself but the simple exchange between her and Remus and the sentiment behind it that had created the magic. Now every time they expressed their love, every day, both in the smallest and grandest of gestures, she felt the strength of that magic. Their love was the magic, and it was the most powerful kind of all.

After they finished up a decadent and chocolaty dessert, music began to play from somewhere Hermione couldn't identify. Remus stood and offered her his hand. "Shall we? A proper dance this time. With music."

"And no falling."

"Or sand in our pants."

They swept across the deck, dancing and laughing together under the stars. Remus's eyes twinkled when a familiar tune began to play, and Hermione too recalled the night they'd had their first proper dance to this very song.

"The night of my graduation," she said, pulling in close, "you asked me if I thought I could truly be happy with you, and I predicted I'd be the happiest girl in the world." She grinned. "I was right."

He laughed. "Well, you nearly always are. And I . . . I am blessed," he said, sobering a bit. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too."

When the song ended, Hermione stepped toward the table and grabbed her glass, raising it for another toast. "To love — that strange pull that draws two souls together toward happiness."

With a smile, Remus added, " _If_ you are brave enough to allow it to."

 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N:** Ah, we've reached the end at last. It's been a struggle to update the last few months because of writer's block and real life stresses, and now that I've posted the final chapter I have all these feelings and don't know what to do with myself!

Thank you so much for reading, and a huge thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts along the way. Your reviews always made my day and helped me more than you know.

I have two more stories coming later this year. If you're interested you can go to my profile page to read their summaries. I'll be taking a little break from writing, but I'm aiming to start posting one of my new fics sometime this summer. I hope you'll check it out :)


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